This Stony Pass
by jncar
Summary: When Remus leaves, Tonks starts to fall apart. With the unexpected help of Snape she begins to pull herself back together, but is left wondering how to move forward and how to help Remus when he keeps pushing her away. HBP sequel to The Rookie & Drifting
1. Chapter 1: These Tears are Going Nowhere

_Author's Notes: _I owe a great deal of thanks to MrsTater for her beta-help on this story. Her suggestions have been invaluable. And thank you to everyone who has been encouraging me to continue writing this fic-universe. The story and chapter titles are derived from the song "Stuck in a Moment" by U2, lyrics by Bono. And be aware: this chapter is LOOONG. Make sure you're comfortable and in no hurry to do anything else before you begin.

Chapter 1: These Tears are Going Nowhere

_July_

The sun set hours ago, and the pace and tone of Remus's breath fell into the soft and deep pattern of sleep not long after they lay down, but Tonks is still awake beside him. Her hand rests on his bare chest, rising and falling slowly with his regular breaths. She tries to close her eyes and shut out the troubled thoughts that dance in her head, but she finds that she can't silence them.

Remus is leaving again in the morning. Dumbledore is sending him out for another few days collecting information among the other werewolves—the poor unfortunates who have no one to love them as she loves Remus. Neither of them has said it aloud, but both of them know that the prospect of this assignment becoming permanent looms over them with dreadful immediacy. It is now less a matter of "if", then of "when."

The fear rolls in her gut like some foul disease, leaving her nauseous and weak. In the daylight hours she puts on a brave face, and does her job. But in the darkness of night and exhaustion, she can't stop the fears from overwhelming her.

If he does go underground he could be gone for weeks, or even months, at a time. He may not even be able to send her word. And who knows how long the assignment could last? It could be done in three months, but it could also take more than a year.

She knows that she can wait for him. She knows that she can be strong; but his mother's words keep echoing through her mind: "_The other werewolves. That's where Albus sent him last time, and it was almost the end of him. He came back feeling less than human. He came back feeling like a pariah—an animal…He's never been completely the same. Never. Albus can't do that to him again."_

Tonks promised that it wouldn't happen again. Just like she promised that she loved him enough to carry him through the hard times—to lend him her strength when his own isn't enough. But now, after what happened to Sirius and what she sees happening to Remus, she doesn't know if he will let her keep either promise, no matter how much she wants to. He seems further and further away from her every day.

With a surge of bitterness, she returns to the thought that Dumbledore would never send Arthur on a mission like this. He would never break up a family. Why doesn't he see that sending Remus away is no different?

As she watches Remus stir lightly in his sleep it occurs to her that perhaps she needs to take drastic steps. Dumbledore may not see them as a family now, but what if she convinces Remus to elope? Surely Dumbledore won't take him away from his new bride? Or better yet, what if she stops taking her contraceptive potion? Dumbledore won't send Remus away if he is going to be a father…

She halts that train of thought before it goes any further as a wave of shame and disgust washes over her. She wonders what kind of horrible person she must be to even _think_ such things. What kind of coward must she be to dwell on them for even a second? She's an Auror, and at war, and she has a duty—a responsibility. No matter how terrified she is of the future—no matter how afraid she is of losing her chance to have a family with Remus—she knows that her duties must come first. She knows that she will do nothing to jeopardize her ability to fight for the world she believes in—it was just a passing thought. That's all.

She rubs her eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, trying to banish the final traces of her craven thoughts from her mind. She tells herself that it is just the exhaustion. She would never think such things if she had enough rest. She just needs to sleep. And, eventually, she does.

All too soon, morning comes. She rises from bed with Remus, and forces a smile onto her face. She wishes him luck, and kisses him goodbye. She keeps the dark thoughts from the dead of night to herself.

She chokes down some toast, knowing that she will need her strength today, and shrugs into her Aurors robes. It is time to step back out face-first into the rising storm.

…………………………………………..

She survives the first two days apart from Remus, but the third is almost too much.

She is trembling and nauseous when she Apparates home to her flat after her shift ends. She has to get her clothes off. She has to get them off _now_. She tugs and fumbles at her robes and the jeans and shirt underneath, tossing them in a damp pile by her door. Her shaking fingers slip on her shirt buttons, and she gives up being careful—she rips her shirt open, sending buttons flying and scattering around the room.

Once all of her clothes are lying in a forlorn heap, she stumbles away from them, trying to escape the rusty scent of blood. She makes her way to the shower, and turns on the water as hot as she can bear.

As she fiercely scrubs her skin she tries not to think about the fact that it is Emmeline's blood that is being washed down the drain, and she hopes that somehow scrubbing her body might also scrub her mind of the images of Emmeline's staring eyes—her hand stretched out, as if clawing for freedom—the pool of blood congealing around her body.

They made sure she suffered. There was no quick release for Emmeline. And now, every single happy memory that Tonks has of her friend will be tainted by that one, horrible, memory of finding her battered corpse.

Tonks knows that the war really started that night in the Department of Mysteries, and she still mourns Sirius along with the rest of the Order. But the true magnitude of what lies ahead didn't become clear to her until she cradled her friend's head in her lap, getting blood on her robes and on her hands, staring into those blank, terrified, eyes until her back up finally arrived. But, like Tonks, they came too late.

She doesn't turn off the shower until the water runs cold. She wraps herself in a warm, fuzzy dressing gown, and takes a deep breath before stepping back out into her living room to look at the pile of clothes by the front door. She knows she ought to wash them, but she doesn't know if she can bear it. She can see the dark patches of blood drying into a brown crust on her clothes, and she knows that no matter how clean she gets them, she will never forget that _these_ were the clothes that bore the last traces of Emmeline's life.

After staring at them for a long moment, she strides to the table where she flung her wand, and picks it up. With a few flicks of her wrist she vanishes her clothes one piece at a time. Soon, all that is left are her boots, standing in the center of a brownish smudge on her floor.

She is about to vanish the boots, as well, when she stops herself. Those are her best work boots. Though she is ashamed of herself for it, she doesn't want to get rid of them.

She levitates them into the kitchen sink. She'll clean them tomorrow.

Pointedly ignoring the boots, she walks into the kitchen and takes some lettuce and celery out of her fridge. Then she returns to the living room and sits down next to her rabbit, Mr. Fluffy's, cage. She pulls him out onto her lap, and begins feeding him bits of vegetable. His fur is soft and warm under her hands. He's so simple, and innocent. Holding him helps her forget her troubles, at least for a little while.

If only Remus will come home early—she doesn't know how she'll sleep through the night without him.

Her thought of Remus jolts her out of her stupor of grief. Remus will be back tomorrow, and he will need his first dose of Wolfsbane Potion. She is supposed to meet Severus at Hogwarts tonight to brew it. She looks up at the clock, and is relieved to see that she isn't late yet. But she will be if she doesn't get dressed in a hurry. She puts Mr. Fluffy back in his cage, and runs to her room for some clothes.

…………………………………

She Apparates to the front gates of Hogwarts. Hagrid is waiting for her there, playing fetch with his massive dog.

"Hello, Tonks!" he says in his booming voice. "Good ter see yeh."

"Hello, Hagrid," she says, forcing a smile on to her face.

"Professor Snape tol' me ter watch fer yeh. He says he's goin' ter be late, an yeh should start prepping the ingredients, but wait for him ter get here ter start brewin'."

"Thank you Hagrid."

"Yer welcome. It was'n any trouble. Good luck with yer potion."

She follows the familiar path down to Severus's office in the dungeon, and lets herself in. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, and sets about laying out the ingredients and tools that she will need. She chops and prepares all of the non-toxic ingredients, and then sits on a stool to wait for Severus's return before preparing the rest.

The dungeons are eerily silent, and the images of Emmeline keep popping un-bidden into her increasingly exhausted mind. She stands up and starts pacing, trying to drive the thoughts from her head. She keeps checking the clock. She's been there for half-an-hour. Then three-quarters of an hour. When a whole hour has passed she stamps her foot in frustration. She can't wait any longer, or she'll fall asleep on her feet.

She strides over to the counter, and lights the flame under her cauldron. She doesn't care if Severus insists that she still needs his supervision—she brewed the Wolfsbane all by herself last month, with him doing nothing more than looking over her shoulder from time to time. She's knows that she can do it again.

She pulls on her safety gloves, and starts to work.

She makes good progress, and soon the bubbling concoction in her cauldron is well on its way to being another perfect batch of Wolfsbane potion. It's time to prepare the aconite.

Severus has warned her that the poison of the aconite is known to have stronger effects on all shape-shifters—not just werewolves—and that it will likely damage a Metamorphmagus far more than an ordinary witch or wizard. But, under Severus's tutelage, she has learned how to handle it safely.

She begins the slow process of chopping the aconite roots into fine bits with her silver knife. Suddenly a voice cries out, "Tonksy wonksy!"

She jumps, her knife slipping against her finger, and spins to see Peeves hovering in the air behind her. The poltergeist snorts with laughter, and says, "Did I scare you, Tonksy wonksy?"

She scowls and turns back to her work. "Go away, Peeves. I'm busy."

She hears Peeves giggling maniacally, and does her best to ignore it. She needs to start mashing the bits of aconite roots into a paste.

A bottle crashes to the floor. She jumps around again, pointing her knife at the offending poltergeist, which hovers over the broken bottle with a grin on his face.

"Do I need to call in the Bloody Baron to run you off?" she yells. "Get out!"

With another snicker, Peeves soars away.

She once again returns to her work, shaking her hand, which is beginning to feel cold and numb.

As she continues to mash the aconite, the numbness in her hand intensifies, and begins to spread up her arm.

She shakes her hand again, and finds that it is hard to move, and is starting to ache. The numbness is spreading into her shoulder, and her chest. She leans against the counter, and stares down at her numb hand. She gasps in horror as she sees the spot where her knife sliced through her glove. A thin red slit is clearly visible on her finger.

Some of the aconite must have got into the wound.

Her chest is starting to hurt, and her breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. She pushes back from the counter, dropping her knife with a clatter. She has to get help.

She stumbles toward the door, her feet dragging and her head spinning. Just as she opens the door, the world begins to go black, and she feels herself falling to the hard stone floor.

…………………………………………

The first thing she notices is the ache. It's not just in a few parts of her body, like she would expect. It's all over—as if every single cell of her body has a bruise on it.

The second thing she notices is that someone is gripping her hand so tightly it's like they're trying to save her from falling off of a cliff.

She slowly forces her eyes open, and licks her dry lips. Her mouth feels sticky, and is full of an unpleasant taste. She turns her head to see who it is that's squeezing her hand. It is Remus. He looks worn and haggard, but has a smile on his face.

"Good morning," he says.

"Hi." Her voice comes out as a raspy croak. "Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's? Why?"

He frowns slightly, his forehead furrowing. "You don't remember? Last night…?"

She takes a deep breath to clear her mind, and the memory comes rushing back. The numbness in her hand…the pain in her chest…and then a hazier memory. Someone was shouting her name—cursing at her for her inability to follow the simplest of instructions. Severus. He must have found her—he must have brought her here. She licks her dry lips, and takes another deep breath. "It was the aconite."

Remus nods. "Yes. The aconite."

"That damn Peeves! Dumbledore should have him thrown out!"

"What does Peeves have to do with anything?"

"He startled me while I was chopping the aconite roots. My knife slipped and I cut my finger…" She glances over at her wounded hand, noticing for the first time that the entire hand is swathed in thick white bandages.

"Don't worry," says Remus. "They managed to save your hand—even the finger you cut. Though it was very touch and go for a while there." His voice sounds strained, and tired. She silently curses her clumsiness. He shouldn't have had to deal with this right after his mission. He should have been able to rest.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly. "I should have been more careful. I should have been patient and waited for Severus's help. Peeves never would have snuck up on me with Severus there."

Remus shakes his head. "I should be the one apologizing. I should have learned more about the potion myself. If I'd had any inkling of how dangerous aconite is to a Metamorphmagus, I never would have permitted you to make it for me."

His words feel like a slap in the face. "Not permitted? Since when have I needed your permission?" She is not going to let him blame himself for this. He has too much guilt on his conscience already.

"I'm sorry. Permitted was the wrong word. But you understand what I'm saying—I don't want you taking these kinds of risks for me. It's not worth it."

She can't stand it when he starts to talk like this. "Remus—you are worth every risk to me. You know that."

He nods, but his eyes are downcast and weary. "There's something you should know—about what the aconite did to you, and to your abilities."

Her frustration with Remus is instantly replaced with fear. Severus warned her that the aconite might affect her more than it would a normal person. "What about my abilities?"

"Don't worry too much," he says, stroking the back of her undamaged hand. "The Healer said that there will probably be some temporary impairment of your morphing abilities, but that you will most likely be back to normal in two or three weeks."

"What do you mean by impairment?" She _needs _her powers to do her job.

Remus takes a deep breath. "I'm sure that the Healer will explain this better than I can when she gets here, but it seems that somehow the aconite has seized up your cells. As a Metamorphmagus, your body's cells are normally amorphous and flexible, allowing your natural powers to shape them however you desire. But in some sort of natural defense mechanism to protect themselves from the poison, your cells have become more rigid, and regular, like they would be in any other woman."

"So…I won't be able to morph at all?" It's as if all of her worst imaginings are coming true, all at once.

"For now, no. But I told you, the Healer said that your cells will most likely return to their normal level of flexibility in a few week's time, at which point you should be able to morph as well as you ever have."

She closes her eyes tight, trying to quell the anxiety welling up inside of her. Her morphing has been a part of her for as long as she can remember, and she doesn't know what she'll do without it.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Tonks looks up to see her father standing in the gap of the curtains surrounding her bed, with her mother just behind him.

Remus rises, dropping her hand, leaving her bereft.

"Mr. Tonks…I'm sorry. I was just…"

Her father steps forward, looking angry. "Just acting like you still have the right to come see her, when it's your fault she's here for the second time in less than a month?"

"Daddy," says Tonks, straining to sit up. "It is _not_ Remus's fault—it's mine. I made a stupid bloody mistake, and now I'm paying for it. Remus had nothing to do with it."

"Don't overexert yourself, dear," says her mother, bustling forward.

Her father turns his hard eyes on her. "I've been talking to the Healer. I know perfectly well what kind of potion you were trying to brew. You never would have ended up in this place if it weren't for your damned obsession with this sodding werewolf!"

"Daddy!" Tonks exclaims, but her father ignores her, and turns to glare at Remus. "An obsession which he seems very much inclined to encourage—and who could blame him? Not many of his kind ever get the chance to have a beautiful young witch at their beck and call." He takes another menacing step toward Remus, who just stands there, silently staring. "You must be enjoying this, aren't you?" her father continues. "You must be on top of the world, having a Metamorphmagus to do your bidding." She's never heard this tone in her father's voice before. He never has liked Remus, but she thought he was growing used to him—or at least to the idea of him—over the past several months. But now she can see his doubts and worries boiling out of him with astonishing force. She never imagined him capable of saying such vile things.

She sits bolt upright, her chest heaving with anger, pain, and anguish. "Stop it! Just stop it!"

Her mother's arm slides around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly. "You've said enough, Ted. This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion." This is too much. She thought her mother _liked_ Remus.

"There is no time or place for this discussion, Mum!" Tonks chokes out, fighting back sobs. "I am in love with him! I love Remus, and I haven't done anything for him that the two of you wouldn't have done for each other. I made my choice, just like you did, and I don't care what you think of it."

Her chest heaves, and pain suffuses her whole body, and she bites down on her bottom lip trying to hold back her tears.

All the while Remus just stands there, looking lost and almost afraid. Seeing him like this hurts her more than the physical pain. Remus _never_ looks like this, and a part of her hates her father for doing this to him.

A Healer bursts into the curtained area. "This is quite enough!" she says. "This young woman has just been through a severe trauma, and I will not permit you to agitate her like this. You will all have to leave. Now!"

The tone in her voice leaves no room for argument. Without a word, Tonks's father turns on his heels and stalks out through the gap in the curtains. Her mother gives her another hug, and whispers. "I'm so sorry, dear. I'll talk to him for you. Take care." She follows her husband.

"Remus?" asks Tonks imploringly, reaching out her hand toward him.

"He'll have to leave, too, love," says the Healer, sounding much pleasanter than she did a few moments ago.

Remus, still visibly shaken, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. He leans forward to plant a quick kiss on her forehead, and says, "I'll see you soon." Then he turns, and follows her parents away from her.

She lies back down, and the Healer begins fussing around her, tucking in her blankets and getting her some medicinal tea. She changes Tonks's bandages, and Tonks is more than a little alarmed by the blue-ish color of her finger, but the Healer assures her that it will be fine in a few days. She begins babbling on about the treatments they've used, explaining what they've done and will continue to do to heal her from her accidental poisoning. "You're very lucky that Professor McGonagall got you to us when she did. A half an hour longer, and you'd have lost the whole hand."

"Minerva brought me in?" Tonks asks, confused.

"Oh, yes. She told us all about how she was letting you use the Potions classroom for your brewing, and how she found you passed out on the floor when she came to check on you. It's amazing that she managed to get you through the Floo all by herself."

The Healer moves on to babbling about the course of treatment she'll need to follow over the next few weeks, but Tonks can't concentrate. She is sure that she remembers Severus finding her—if it wasn't just a dream. So why wasn't _he_ the one to bring her in? But the new puzzle doesn't distract her from her troubles for long, as the Healer soon launches into a more detailed explanation about the aconite's affect on her powers.

"…but once it's worked its way completely out of your system, your body should begin to relax and return to its normal state. You should be able to morph again in two or three weeks—certainly no more than a month."

"You don't...you don't sound very sure."

"It's hard to be sure in a case as rare as yours," replies the Healer with a warm smile. "But I feel very positive about your outlook."

This does not reassure Tonks one bit. She feels dizzy, and anxious. She closes her eyes. "This can't be happening," she mutters. It's too much.

The tears leak uncontrollably from her eyes, and heaving sobs begin to shake her body. She feels like she's losing her friends, she's losing her family, she's losing Remus, and now she's even losing herself. She raises her hands to her face to try to blot away the tears, but the feeling of those bandages against her skin only makes her cry harder. The Healer's thick arms circle around her, and she feels her head being cradled against the woman's soft chest.

For several minutes the woman rocks her in silence, stroking her hair and hissing soft shushes like she would to a child. Finally, Tonks's sobs begin to subside, and the woman says, "It's all right, love. I know that right now it feels like the whole world is ending, but what you really need is a good day to sleep it off, and everything will seem better tomorrow. I promise."

Amazingly, she is right.

………………………………………

When she wakes in the morning, Tonks finds that most of her aches are gone, and her heart feels a great deal lighter. A new Healer comes to check on her, and under his brusque care she finds herself missing the plump motherly woman who comforted her so expertly yesterday. He removes her bandages, and she is delighted to see that her hand looks almost normal. There is only a slight redness and swelling around the spot where she cut her finger. The Healer applies a salve to it, and wraps a new bandage around the finger, leaving the rest of her hand free. He gives her a list of potions and salves to pick up at the Apothecary on her way home, and detailed instructions on her medical regimen for the coming week.

After he finishes, a polite young woman in stiff white robes brings her a hearty breakfast, and she is astonished to find that she is ravenous. She finishes the entire breakfast, and finds herself looking for more.

A few minutes later she looks up to see Molly Weasley walking toward her. "Good morning, dear!" she says cheerily. Tonks's disappointment must be visible, because Molly immediately adds, "I know you were expecting Remus, but Dumbledore called him away at the last minute. I swear Remus works harder than the rest of us combined, poor man."

Tonks tries to be cheerful as Molly leads her out of her ward, down to the Apothecary for her potions, and then home to her flat, but when Molly chides her gently for putting herself at such risk, Tonks can't hold back. "Wouldn't you have done the same for Arthur? If he was sick, wouldn't you do everything you could to help him? I can't understand why people seem to think I did something wrong in trying to help him! The only thing I did wrong was to work alone and exhausted. I should have taken a nap. I should have waited for Severus. But learning to make that potion for Remus was the right thing to do, and no one is going to convince me otherwise!"

Molly looks abashed. "You're right. Of course, you're right. If it was Arthur, I _would_ have done the same, no matter the risk. I'm sorry. I was talking like a mother, not like a friend."

Now it is Tonks who feels ashamed. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sorry. It's been a horrible week. And yesterday morning I got in an awful fight with my Dad, and he said the most horrible things about Remus right to his face. I think I'm just feeling a little sensitive about these things."

Molly shakes her head. "Well, for Merlin's sake, a hospital ward is no place to start bullying your daughter's beau! No wonder you feel so low." She pulls her into a hug, just like the Healer did yesterday. "You poor dear. After all you've been through in the past few days, it's amazing that you're doing as well as you are—I certainly don't think that I'd be doing half so well if I were in your place."

Molly has Tonks sit down on her sofa, and goes to the kitchen to make some tea. "My father never has cared for Arthur, you know," she calls. "But at least he's always had the courtesy to be civil. Would you like me to wash these boots for you?"

It takes Tonks a few seconds to remember the boots in her sink—the boots with Emmeline's blood on them. "No!" she says.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Please, just leave them for me." She knows that she has to wash them herself, but she doesn't really know why.

After drinking her tea, and promising Molly that she will take a nap, Molly leaves Tonks to herself.

She tries to take the promised nap, but finds that after nearly twenty-four hours of sleep she simply doesn't have it in her. Instead, she potters around the flat doing long-neglected chores in an attempt to distract herself from memories of Emmeline, and worries about Remus.

She wonders what he must be thinking. What her father said hurt him deeply—she could see it. With the frame of mind that he's been in since Sirius's death, she's afraid that this new hurt could drive him to do something rash. She wishes that she could talk to him, and reassure him that nothing between them has changed—that they still have friends who love and support them.

She paces back and forth through her flat. She can't sit still. Every time she stops moving she notices the stiffness and inflexibility of her body. She's had trouble maintaining morphs for longer than an hour or two during times of high stress or illness in the past, but she's never been completely unable to morph. It's almost like being stuck in clothes that don't quite fit.

The only thing that distracts her is movement. She wants to go back to work. She wants to track down Greyback right now, and toss him into Azkaban herself. And she wants to find Bellatrix and…and what? Kill her?

She continues to pace around her flat, doing little chores along the way and averting her eyes every time she catches a glimpse of those boots. Why didn't she just let Molly wash them?

After a little over an hour of pacing and cleaning, she hears a knock on her door. She picks up her wand and peers out of her peep-hole. It is Severus.

She calls out their security question. "What did I give you for Christmas?"

"Powdered bicorn horn." It is him.

She sets her wand down and lets him in. "How did you know where my flat is?"

"I have my ways. But that isn't important. What is important is that after your gross display of negligence and carelessness two nights ago, I can never permit you to brew the Wolfsbane Potion again." He glares at her fiercely.

She's been longing for a good fight to get rid of all her nervous energy, and she's glad that Severus brought one right to her.

"You can't stop me. I know the recipe by heart. I'll brew it right here in my kitchen if I have to."

His scowl deepens, and she is glad. She doesn't want soft words and comfort right now. She wants action.

"Then I'll break into your flat and destroy all of your ingredients," he says.

"I'll buy more."

"I'll Obliviate the recipe right out of your head!"

"I'll look it up and teach it to myself all over again!"

"Then I'll lock you in a bloody dungeon and throw away the key! You will not brew that potion again until you prove to me that you care about preserving your own life as much as you care about preserving his!" His face is red, and while he shouts little flecks of spittle fly from his mouth.

She's never seen him like this before, and she hates that she's done this to him. The will to fight drains right out of her. "I'm sorry, Severus," she says quietly. "I shouldn't be taunting you like this."

He continues to glare at her, his chest heaving with fury, but when he speaks again his voice is low, and tightly controlled. "You have no idea what it was like for me, finding you lying on the floor like that. When I first saw you I thought you were dead."

This jars her—images of Emmeline's body rising in her mind. Did Severus feel the same way finding her that she had felt finding Emmeline? And she was the one who put him through that. No wonder he's angry.

"I'm sorry. I was stupid. No one should have to find a friend like that. You have my deepest apologies."

After a moment, he nods. "Apology accepted."

They stare at each other in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Tonks says, "Why did Minerva bring me to St. Mungo's? Why not you?"

His anger seems to be dissipating, but she can tell by the tightness of the muscles in his face that he is still upset. "I should think the reason would be obvious," he says.

"You were afraid of breaking your cover?"

He nods. "Yes."

Now she is the one who is upset. Will this be what it's like once Remus has gone underground? Will they have to pretend not to know each other? Will they have to stand back and watch each other suffer, all for the sake of the mission? How can Dumbledore constantly preach about the importance of love, and then force people apart like this? She can feel her anger rising again.

"It shouldn't have to be like this!" she snaps at Severus. "You shouldn't have had to waste precious time calling someone else to help, when you could have got me to the hospital himself twice as fast! It's not fair! None of this is fair!" She knows that she sounds like a petulant child, but she can't help herself.

His face flushes red again. As usual, she's managed to say the wrong thing. With Severus, she never seems to know what the right thing is.

"Life is not fair. It's time you learned that. Waiting for Minerva to get to us while I sat helplessly, watching the life seeping out of you, was one of the hardest things I have ever done," she says through clenched teeth. "But it was the correct decision. If I had been seen taking you to the hospital, all of my credibility with the Death Eaters could have been ruined. My task is too important to sacrifice for a colleague."

"But is it too important for a friend?"

He clenches his jaw again, and steps closer to her. "This is war, Nymphadora. Hard decisions must be made. Nothing can stand in the way of victory—not even friendship."

She doesn't agree with him. Victory would be empty if you have to give up everything and everyone you love in the process. But she knows that she cannot change his mind. He is too devoted to Dumbledore, and to their cause. She lowers her eyes and says, "I'm sorry I forced you to make that decision."

"So am I."

They are silent again. Severus shuffles his feet, glancing around her flat for the first time. She clears her throat. "I've been cleaning all morning. It's not usually this tidy."

He nods. "It certainly isn't as slovenly as I was expecting." His eyes flick over to Mr. Fluffy's cage. "I never would have taken you for a rabbit person."

"Remus has had pet rabbits since he was a boy. We got him together."

"I see." He shuffles his feet again. "So, will I have to lock you in a dungeon, or have you come to your senses?"

She looks down at her hand, and wills her fingers to grow longer and her nails to turn pink. She feels a slight twinge of pain, and nothing happens. She bites her lower lip to hold back a cry of frustration. She takes a deep breath, and replies, "I won't brew the potion. At least…not until I've got a better handle on all the new stresses I'm facing."

He stares down at her. "That's the best I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?"

She glares back up at him. "Yes, it is."

He seems to ponder her reply for a moment before answering. "Very well. When you are ready to resume brewing, I expect you to present me with a list of redoubled safety measures that we can implement to prevent any further mishaps. You will not brew again until I have approved those safety measures, and you are NEVER to brew alone again. Agreed?"

His terms are fair and prudent. She nods. "Agreed."

Another silence falls between them. "Did you get Remus his potion?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"I was only doing my duty." He pauses, glancing around her flat again. "I should be going now. It was foolish of me to come here in the first place. I shouldn't be seen socializing with Aurors." He turns and steps back to the door.

"Severus," she says, stepping toward him.

"Yes?" He looks over his shoulder at her.

"Thank you for coming to check on me."

"That's not why I came."

She smiles. "Yes, it is."

He frowns. "You consistently apply the most absurd idealizations to my motives. It's ridiculous."

"Good bye, Severus."

"Good bye." He walks out, closing the door behind him.

An argument with Severus seems to be exactly what she needed to relieve her anxiety and tension. She lies down on her sofa and closes her eyes, and within minutes she falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

That night, after dinner, she receives an owl from Remus, with a note telling her that he won't be home in the morning, and that she should plan on meeting him at Emmeline's funeral tomorrow afternoon. She is disappointed, and something in the note's tone disturbs her. After re-reading several times she finally realizes what it is: instead of signing the note, "Love, Remus," as is usual, he merely signed his name with no preamble.

She knows she shouldn't let it bother her. But it does. She doesn't sleep well tonight.

……………………………….

She arrives at Emmeline's funeral as late as she can, and sits in the back. She doesn't want to have to look at the body again. But Remus arrives even later, slipping in just as the first speaker steps to the podium. He sits next to her, and gives her hand a warm squeeze. Immediately, she begins to feel better.

After the service, she tells him that she doesn't want to stay to socialize—she just wants to go home. He reluctantly agrees.

He seems tense and nervous when they get home. She is worried—he's had several days to himself to wrestle with his feelings about her poisoning and her parents, and he's had no one to talk to. What if he's allowed his anxieties and fears get the best of him? Their world is too fragile right now. She feels like nothing is certain, and nothing is safe, and she is sure he feels the same way. She asks him what's wrong.

He shakes his head, looking away from her. "Things aren't going well. They aren't going well at all." He pauses to take a deep breath. "Dumbledore agrees with me that it's time for me to go underground, permanently. There needs to be a man in the field who can work to counter Greyback's rhetoric, and I'm the only one who can do it."

A cold knot forms in the pit of her stomach. This is what she's been dreading for weeks, and now, at the worst possible time, it is finally happening. Her legs feel weak, and she sinks into a chair. "When will you leave?"

"Soon. My transformation is tomorrow night, and I'll need a few days afterward to prepare myself."

She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth. She's not ready for this. How could she ever be ready for this? She flounders for the words to express what she's feeling as her anger and frustration and fear wells up inside of her. "Your mother…she told me what happened to you last time you went underground. She told me what it did to you. How can Dumbledore ask you to do this again?"

He hesitates. "Greyback needs to be stopped. Someone has to be out there, reaching the other werewolves…"

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Because there's no one else."

Her anger overtakes her fear, and she leaps back to her feet and starts pacing the room. "And if you find him—if you find Greyback—what will you do?"

He looks at her, puzzled. "I'll try to gather information on his plans…perhaps see if there's anything I can do to undermine his support…"

"Why not call in the Aurors to arrest him?"

"Because Dumbledore wants to be sure that none of the other werewolves are in a position to step up and replace him. It will take time to ascertain that information. And besides, the risk of innocent werewolves being harmed or captured is too great. I don't want to put them in any more danger than they already face."

She clenches her fists. "Then don't call the other Aurors. Call me!"

Remus looks alarmed. "What do you think you can do all by yourself?"

"I can kill him."

"No. No!" He looks aghast.

"Yes. I'm authorized to use deadly force. I'll provoke him, he'll attack me, and I'll finish it. It'll be easy." She never imagined that she would be able to talk so coldly and calmly about killing another human being. It's amazing the things she is learning about herself now that the people she loves are threatened.

Remus's face grows hard. "It's not going to happen. I'm not going to let you become a murderer for my sake."

"It's not just for you, Remus. It's for everyone…"

"You know that's a lie. You'd do it just to save me—to spare me from living underground. I see it in your eyes. But I'm not going to let it happen."

"So you're just going to sacrifice yourself instead? I can't stand thinking about what this is going to do to you. Dumbledore saw what happened to you when you went underground during the last war. How can he do this to you again?"

"He isn't doing it to me."

"Yes, he is!"

"I volunteered." His words are calm and quiet, but they seem to hover in the air with an unseen power. "He told me I didn't have to go, but I insisted."

Tonks stares at him in disbelief, and takes a sharp breath as a horrible thought enters her mind. "This isn't just an assignment, is it? You're leaving me." She whispers the words, hoping with all her heart that she is wrong—that all the stress of the past few weeks has addled her brain. Remus would never leave her, would he?

He shakes his head. "It's not like that." Something in his voice and his face unnerves her.

"Then what is it like?"

He gives her a disconsolate look, and sits down heavily on the sofa.

She raises a hand to her mouth. Her mind is reeling. "Oh, God. You _are_ leaving me."

"Please, come sit down with me."

She shakes her head violently. "No! Not until you tell me the truth. Are you leaving me?"

"Tonks, please?" he says with an anguished expression.

With that one look, she knows that it is true. "Oh, God," she says again, and sinks back into her chair. How could he be leaving her? Especially now, of all times, when she needs him the most? It's like the world somehow turned upside down while she lay asleep in the hospital—or like some dark spirit has inhabited Remus's body. He's always been so afraid that _she _would leave _him._ He seemed so happy…He would never really leave her, would he?

Still looking anguished, he looks at the floor and shakes his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this…not right after the funeral. This isn't what I had planned."

"You've known about this long enough to plan?!"

He looks back up at her. "I'm sorry," he says in a pained voice.

This is just one of his temporary panics—it has to be. If she tries hard enough, she can talk him out of it. "Don't be sorry. Just don't do it."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Yes! I do." His eyes are flashing. "I'm no good for you. I should have seen it ages ago, when you risked your job and your reputation for me. But I let myself get caught up in the romance, and the excitement. I never once stopped to just think about what this relationship might do to you. I never took the time to think about how horribly, completely wrong I am for you."

This can't be happening. She feels like her mind is in a haze as he continues what is obviously a well-practiced speech. Did he really just say that they've been living in a fantasy—that this isn't a fairy tale?

"This is the real world," he says. "There is no happily ever after for us—we were only fooling ourselves."

She feels sick and dizzy. This can't be real—but in her gut she knows it is, and has to persuade him somehow… "It was real," she says feebly. "It was real for me, and I know it was real for you, too. You're just confused…worried…"

"I'm not confused. I've been thinking of nothing else, and I know this is the right decision."

His words so closely echo Severus's justification for not helping her himself that she can feel her anger rising again. "No, it's not! I know that things won't ever be easy for us, and I know that we won't always be happy, but I don't care!"

He shakes his head. "I want to believe you. I really do. But I can't. Not after seeing the way you're destroying yourself for me."

"Destroying myself?"

"Yes! Destroying yourself." He gives her an intense look. "You were willing to face a deadly, crippling poison every single month just to save me a few galleons. And you were so intent on it that you threw caution to the wind just to try to get the potion done a few hours earlier. And now you're willing to alienate your parents, and even commit murder, all for me? It's insane! I'm driving you insane—and one of these days you're going to get yourself killed for me. I'm not worth it! I won't let you ruin your whole future for a man who will likely be dead in less than a decade."

Hot tears burn in her eyes at his accusations. He has thrown every act of loyalty and self-sacrifice back in her face as if they were unforgivable sins. "We don't know that," she says. "You might live for two decades, or more."

"No. It doesn't matter. I won't let you throw away your life for me. You are young, and vibrant, and full of life. You shouldn't waste that on a poor, dying old man who drives you into committing reckless and dangerous acts. You know that logic is on my side."

His reference to their old promise that logic would win over emotion when they argue infuriates her. "I don't care! I don't give a damn about your sodding logic! This is wrong! You are wrong. I don't do these things because I'm insane—I do these things because I love you, and I need you. That's what love is all about. Needing each other. Unless…" her voice catches in her throat as she remembers his short, cold note signed only with his name. "Unless you don't love me anymore?"

His eyes glisten with moisture, and she can see that her words have finally hit home. "It doesn't matter how we feel," he says. "Feeling something doesn't make it right. Loving someone doesn't make it right to be in their life."

"Loving someone is all that matters," she says, moving quickly across the room to sit next to him. "It's the only thing that makes things right." Her mind is a whirlwind of panic and desperation, and she finds herself stumbling over her words as she apologizes for her stupidity, and promises to change—to be better. "_We_ can be better," she says. "We can do it together. We can help each other through this war—I know we can!" She reaches out and lays her hand on his leg.

He looks away from her, once again shaking his head. He looks just as lost and afraid as he did back in the hospital. She knows in her heart that her words are touching him—that he wants to believe her.

She reaches out to take his face in her palm and pulls him toward her for a kiss.

At first he seems hesitant—reluctant. But after just a few seconds he begins to respond to her, sliding his arms around her, deepening their kiss with ardor. As she feels him run his fingers through her hair, she knows that it is over—whatever darkness had invaded him is fleeing, and only her true Remus is left behind.

She slides her hand up his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin, and presses ever closer to him. Suddenly, his whole body stiffens, and he pulls away, rising from the sofa and striding across the room to look out the dirty window at the street below. She feels empty—abandoned. Please, don't do this, Remus.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I can't do this. I can't be here. I know what needs to be done, and I can't do it when I let you touch me like that. It's not right, and it's not fair, to either of us." He turns to look at her with indescribable regret etched in his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. Good bye, Tonks." With that he walks to the door, opens it, and leaves, closing it softly behind him.

In her stunned shock she makes no move to stop him. And just like that, he is gone.

She sits as if frozen, staring at the door. Perhaps, if she sits long enough, the door will open again, and he will be back, telling her how wrong he was—admitting that he'd made a horrible mistake.

So she sits, and gradually, the room grows darker.

…………………………………………

She has no idea how long she has been sitting there when she hears her alarm going off in her bedroom. It was set to remind her that she has to go into work—she's on the night-shift tonight.

Somehow she manages to pull on her uniform and makes it to the Ministry where she meets her partner for the night—an older man named Hooda, with whom she's rarely worked. Much to her relief they have an easy duty: the routine night patrol of Diagon Alley.

She can see by the way Hooda looks at her that he knows she's off her game. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything. A gang of twenty Death Eaters could suddenly Apparate in front of them and she probably still wouldn't care.

She feels like she is sleep-walking through most of her shift, but as morning draws closer she begins to get twitchy, and jumpy. She pulls her wand out at the slightest sound—like a rat scurrying in an alley, or a cat meowing from a rooftop.

When they finally return to the Ministry to file their reports before heading home, Hooda tells her, "Get some sleep, today, Tonks. We can't afford to lose you to sick leave again."

The truth of his words hurts her. He's right. There are too few Aurors as it is. "I will," she says with a nod. "I promise."

Just as she is about to leave for home, Kingsley calls her name. She stops to wait for him to catch up to her. "Sorry to ask this right after a night shift, Tonks," he says, "But I'm almost late for my post, and I need to get this message to Bill today—I've got some information for him that he was looking for. Do you think you could swing by the Burrow before heading home?"

She stares at the roll of parchment that he is holding out toward her, her drowsy mind processing his words. Going home. Home—empty and alone without Remus. No, she doesn't want to go home. She nods. "Sure. I'll take it for you."

"Thanks. I owe you."

…………………………………..

When she Apparates in front of the Burrow the morning sun is still low on the horizon, and she is surprised that she made it without splinching herself. She knocks lightly on the kitchen door, and surprised when it is quickly flung wide by Molly, already dressed for the day.

"Oh, you poor dear," says Molly, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. "You must be miserable. I know every time I fought with Arthur during our first year of marriage I felt like the world would end. But where there's real love, the bad feelings will never last."

Tonks stands, staring at Molly in sleepy confusion. Molly lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Remus came here last night, asking for a place to sleep. He wouldn't talk about it, but it was clear that the two of you had a falling out."

Tonks's eyes widened. "I…I didn't know he was here. I was just bringing a message for Bill…I…Is he inside right now?" She involuntarily steps back from the door.

"Don't worry, dear. He's upstairs lying in. But you should come in and have some breakfast. You can talk to him after you've had something to eat."

Before she even has a chance to say that she's not so sure she really wants to talk to Remus today, Tonks finds herself bustled to the table, where she sits while Molly fetches her a cup of tea and a plate of toast and eggs. She wordlessly eats her food while Molly chatters about the latest goings on of the Weasley clan.

"Good morning, Mum!" says a cheery masculine voice. Tonks looks up to see Bill walking into the kitchen with his arm around his young fiancée. She feels a pang of envy to see them look so happy together.

"Hello, Tonks!" says Bill. "I didn't expect to see you this morning."

"Kingsley caught me as I was coming off of the night shift. He gave me a message to pass on to you." She pulls the roll of parchment out of her robe and hands it to him. He pulls it open, and smiles again.

"Brilliant. I've been waiting for this. Thank you, Tonks."

"You're welcome." She bites her lip, glancing at Molly and wondering if she can get away with excusing herself. But just then Ginny and Hermione walk into the kitchen, and start enthusiastically questioning her about what sorts of progress the Aurors are making after this week full of disasters. Tonks stumbles and fumbles through her answers, and Molly keeps loading her plate with new food. Before she knows it all of the home's inhabitants except for Remus are seated around her, carrying on an animated conversation.

"…but surely Harry won't actually want to _live_ there, will he?" Ginny is saying.

Tonks perks up. "Live where?"

"Sirius's old house," she replies.

The astonishment must have been clear on Tonks's face, because Bill breaks in to explain. "You wouldn't have heard yet, Tonks. A few days ago I found Sirius's will in his vault at Gringotts. He's left everything to Harry."

"Oh. Of course."

Ron begins a long monologue about all the things Harry can do with his growing fortune, but all that Tonks can think about is that Harry must be feeling just as badly as she is right now. He's lost one of the people that he loves the most, and no amount of money will make up for that.

Her mind continues to wander down that path, as she realizes that Sirius's death was the beginning of the end for her relationship with Remus. Things haven't been right since then. It was almost as if losing his best friend all over again had frightened Remus away from holding on to anyone else—including her. Once again, the ominous words of Remus's mother echo in her mind: "_He never let himself settle down long enough to get close to anyone new after the war… If you aren't steady, and patient, one of these days the tides of life will tug a little too hard, and he'll let go of you and drift off in some new direction. It would break his heart—but he wouldn't stop it. He doesn't know how._" Tonks had promised herself that she would be strong enough to hold onto him—strong enough to lift him up when times were hard. But now she sees clearly as can be that she has failed.

"It's my fault," she says, and the conversation around her ceases.

"What was that, Tonks?" asks Molly.

"It's my fault he's gone. I should have been stronger. I should have found a way to stop him…but I couldn't. I was too weak, and now I've lost him. It's all my fault."

Suddenly everyone else in the room is talking at once, trying to reassure her that she's not to blame—that no one holds her responsible. It takes her a few moments to realize that they thought she was talking about Sirius.

And then, without warning, Remus is there, standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her in undisguised astonishment.

She shoots to her feet. "I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have stayed so long. You all have busy days ahead of you—I should get out of your way."

"You're never in the way, Tonks," says Molly. "You should stay and have a nice talk with Remus—I'm sure he'll have you feeling better in no time."

Once again, hardly realizing what's happening to her, Tonks finds herself being ushered out to the garden alongside Remus, to sit side by side on a faded wooden bench. Molly pats her reassuringly on the shoulder, and then abandons her to sit in stunned silence with Remus.

She stares resolutely down at her hands, folded in her lap. Remus seems equally uncomfortable. He makes no move to speak. At last, Tonks says, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. If I'd known, I wouldn't have come."

"It's fine. You have as much right to be here as I do." His voice sounds pained, and she doesn't dare look at his face. It would be too much. She's barely hanging on to her composure as it is.

She takes a deep breath, and asks, "Do you have a safe place to transform tonight?"

He nods. "Yes. I was just on the upstairs Floo with Alastor. He has graciously offered me the use of his spare bedroom."

"Good." She bites her bottom lip, and continues to stare down at her hands, silently willing him to speak. She wants him say something—anything—to ease the dull ache in her heart.

He remains silent.

She watches as a robin lands nearby, and begins to run it's beak through the grass in search of tasty insects. Her heart is broken, but life still keeps going. And she'll have to keep going, also.

"I'll be working quite a bit for the next few weeks," she says, "so I don't know when I'll be home. Just let yourself in when you come to get your things. And leave the spare key with Molly when you're done."

"Tonks…"

"Don't." She stands, still not looking at him. "There's nothing you can say that will make this better right now, so please don't try. I'm going home now. Please tell them all goodbye for me."

"I will." She thinks she hears his voice cracking as he answers, and she finally allows herself to raise her eyes to his face. He looks every bit as broken and lost as she feels, and she wants to grab him and shake some sense into him.

But she doesn't.

"Goodbye, Remus." She turns and walks away. When she reaches the lane, she Disapparates.

As soon as she reaches her flat, the exhaustion takes hold of her, and she can barely stand. She stumbles to the kitchen, gripping her counter for support. She looks down, and right there by her hand sit her boots—the boots with Emmeline's blood still on them.

She leans against the wall, and slowly slides down to the ground, putting her face in her hands. For the first time since Remus walked out of her door yesterday, she weeps.

_Author's Note: _Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Another chapter is coming soon, and though there is plenty more angst in store for Tonks and Remus, it will never be quite so intense again.


	2. Chapter 2: Stuck in a Moment

_Author's Notes: _Again, much thanks goes to MrsTater for her beta-help on this story. Without her suggestions, this story would not be what it is. The story and chapter titles are derived from the song "Stuck in a Moment" by U2, lyrics by Bono.

Chapter Two: Stuck in a Moment

_August_

Tonks sinks into her chair and gratefully takes the cup of tea that Molly offers her. She needs an extra pick-me-up; it's been hours since her Aurors' special—the potent combination of black coffee and Pepper-Up Potion that is the only thing that gets her through the day. The young people are picnicking out in the garden, so Tonks and Molly have the house to themselves.

Tonks has been coming here often over the past month—but only at times when she is sure that Remus won't be there. She is also still avoiding her parents—after what happened in the hospital she couldn't possibly bear the mock-sympathy that would come with telling them about the break-up. She has no other friends that she can safely confide in, so she has come to rely on Molly's willing ear.

"Remus was here yesterday," Molly says casually as she prepares their tea.

Tonks clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath, preparing for the most painful part of her new routine with Molly. "Were you nice to him?" she asks.

"Of course I was!" Molly replies. "I always am. Just because I think he's being ridiculous about all this doesn't mean I'm not his friend."

"Good," says Tonks firmly. "Because you know I don't want you taking sides on this."

"I know, dear. And I haven't. Remus is clearly in the wrong, but I assure you that he will never be made to feel unwelcome in my home."

Tonks sighs. She supposes that this is the best that she can expect. Undoubtedly Molly finds ways to gently chide Remus, but hopefully it's nothing too difficult for him to bear. Remus needs all the support he can get these days. He might not be willing to accept it from her, but she is determined to make sure he gets it from everyone else.

Molly sinks down into the chair next to her, clutching her own tea. "What I was going to tell you is that Remus says he might not be coming around anymore."

Tonks bites her bottom lip, and the speed of her heart quickens. "Why not?"

Molly's voice lowers as she replies. "He thinks he's found a pack that will take him in. And once he's gone underground, the only person that he'll report to is Alastor." Molly studies her face intently, as if waiting for her to break down.

Tonks refuses to let the chill of fear shooting through her show on her face. Instead, she calmly says, "We all knew this was coming. It's what he's been working toward."

Molly nods. "Yes, it is." She pauses. "I told him that he ought to say goodbye to you in person. He owes you that much, I think."

Tonks shakes her head. "No. It would only make things harder for him. I wish you hadn't said that, Molly."

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to help," she says. "Seeing the two of you like this breaks my heart."

"I'm a big girl, Molly. I'll survive." But will Remus? That is what really worries her. Now that he's forsaken the support she offered him, will he be able to do this without losing himself?

They lapse into silence, sipping their tea. At last, Molly speaks. "What's this big news you say you have for me?"

Tonks looks down into her tea, and swirls it around. "I'm being transferred to Hogsmeade—permanently."

"Permanently?"

Tonks nods. "The village has been clamoring for more of an Auror presence, and Robards has also been working to improve security measures at Hogwarts for the next school year, so he decided to station four Aurors in Hogsmeade at all times. Three of the positions will be one month rotations. I, on the other hand, am the new permanent Coordinator of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts Security."

"A promotion!" says Molly in delight. "How wonderful for you!"

"I wish it was."

Molly frowns slightly. "How can a promotion be bad?"

Tonks shakes her head. "It was the way Robards said it. He calls me into his office and tells me that because of my diligent and determined performance over the past month in spite of my continuing disability, he has decided that I am the perfect Auror for the job. Which is his way of saying that since I ruined myself for fieldwork when I lost my ability to morph, he's decided to stick me with the crap job that no one else wants. And by making it look like a promotion, he gets away without seeming sexist for sticking one of the only two female Aurors in the safest post."

"Oh," says Molly, and Tonks can tell that Molly doesn't see anything at all wrong with putting a woman in the safest post. Molly sips her tea. "Well, I for one am thrilled. There's no one I would trust more with my children's safety than you. And Ginny will be delighted to see you there, as well."

Tonks can't help but smile. Leave it to Molly to find the silver lining. "Thank you, Molly. I promise I'll do my best."

"I know you will, dear," Molly replies, reaching out to pat Tonks on the knee. It's good to have someone who believes in her, when she's having so much trouble believing in herself.

She lingers at Molly's late into the evening. She isn't eager to go back to her flat; when she is there, too many memories crush in on her, and refuse to give her peace. Plus, she's having trouble sleeping. Part of it is the strangeness of having the bed all to herself night after night. And then, there's the dreams. She would stay awake all night if she could, just to avoid those dreams. The images of Emmeline's terrified, frozen eyes staring out of her blood-spattered face haunt her nightly—and now they've been joined by visions of Remus's broken body lying before her—of Remus's blood darkening her hands….

But she has her duties to think of. Like Robards said, she is diligent and determined. So, eventually, she bids Molly and the children goodnight and heads back to the painful loneliness of her flat, wondering, as always, how she'll make it through the night.

* * *

Two days later she is bustling around her flat, loading boxes with all of her worldly goods. She has lived in this flat for more than three years, and it's amazing to see how many things she has accumulated. She knows she should start clearing some of it out, but she doesn't have the energy today. Most of it will go into storage in Molly's garden shed. 

She pauses every time she comes across something left behind by Remus. She lifts one of his shirts to her nose and breathes in the lingering traces of his scent, feeling the threadbare white fabric sliding smoothly between her fingers. She flips through the novel that he left in between her sofa cushions, running her fingers over the smooth pages. It is the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that she gave him for his birthday, with a loving inscription inside the cover that now seems so fruitless and wasted. She delicately handles the quills he left on her desk, which he once used to write notes for her, to hide in with the lunches that he would pack for her to take to work. How many of those sweet words were true? Or was it all just part of a fantasy, like he claims? All of these items go into a special box of their own, and she has not yet decided if the box will go into storage, or come with her to Hogsmeade.

She hears a knock at her door and is astonished, once again, to see Severus standing there. They haven't had a chance to talk since his last visit nearly a month ago. She lets him in, and invites him to sit down. He perches himself on the edge of a chair, holding his back straight and stiff as a board. When she offers him a drink, he tersely declines.

She sits down in another chair, and says, "For a man so determined not to be seen socializing with an Auror, you're not doing too well."

He scowls—a typical response to her humor. "I'm certain I wasn't seen. If there had been any risk of it I'd have turned back."

"I'm certain you would have. So, what brings you here again?" Having Severus turn up on her doorstep twice in less than a month is doubtless something that few other witches could boast of—not that they'd want to.

She is glad for the company to break up the quiet melancholy of her packing, but she is still not quite sure how to interact with Severus on a social basis. Most of the time they have spent alone together has been during her Wolfsbane brewing lessons, and on the rare occasions that found them together under other circumstances they fell back on talk about their work and the Order's current projects. She wonders if her closer proximity to him in Hogsmeade will lead to more frequent social interactions, and if it does, will they find that they have so little in common that they run out of topics to discuss, or will they be able to turn their relationship into a more genuine friendship?

"I heard that you are being posted to Hogsmeade."

"News travels fast. I only found out myself two days ago."

"Minerva sent around a memo to the entire staff, instructing us to assist you in your work coordinating the school security."

"Oh."

"Have you found lodging in Hogsmeade, yet? If not, I would be glad to make a recommendation."

The question startles her. She never knows quite what to expect out of Severus, but giving her flat-hunting tips certainly wouldn't have been her first guess. "As a matter of fact, I was planning on going up to Hogsmeade tomorrow to start looking. I've got four more days before I have to move, and I guessed that would be enough time to find something. But if you have a good suggestion, I might be able to make the move even sooner."

"In that case, I would highly recommend you take a room at the Hog's Head Inn."

She raises her eyebrows. "That ratty old place? You can't be serious?"

"I am always serious, Nymphadora. The Hog's Head is inexpensive, centrally located, and has the best security wards in Hogsmeade."

"Why does a run-down old pub need security wards?"

Severus gets the mysterious, far-away look on his face that he always wears when he doesn't want to answer her questions. After a short pause, he says, "There was an…incident…more than a decade ago that convinced the proprietor that he should not only place strong wards over the pub, but also place additional wards over each of his guest rooms. And on the rare occasions when he decides to actually _do_ something, he does it full-bore. You'd be hard pressed to find a better protected establishment in all England."

There are so many questions swirling through Tonks's mind that she hardly knows where to start—not that Severus will be very forthcoming. He never is. "Why the sudden concern for my safety?"

He gives her a sharp look. "I know you. You'll spend so much time worrying about protecting Hogsmeade and Hogwarts that you'll never think to protect yourself. It's your way."

Coming from someone else the same words might almost sound like a compliment but Severus manages to turn it into a disdainful criticism. He has the most backward way of keeping up a friendship of anyone she's ever met, and there are times when she wonders why she bothers. But underneath his criticisms she can't help but see a core of genuine concern—and more than a little truth.

She frowns at him. "How do you know so much about the Hog's Head, anyway?"

"I've been known to take a drink there from time to time. Besides, the owner is the Headmaster's brother."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really? Then it _must_ be a decent place to stay. You should have told me that in the first place."

"I don't see why that should make such a difference. Your own family is proof positive that you can't judge one sibling by the character of another."

Her mouth hangs open as she flounders for a reply. As always, his brusque realism catches her off-guard. Finally, she says, "You're right. I suppose I simply like to think the best of people."

"I've noticed." How can he make every word out of his mouth sound like an insult?

She folds her arms, and sighs. "Fine. I'll go look at the Hog's Head before I go anywhere else. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes."

They lapse into one of the silences that so often pepper their conversations. Severus shifts his weight a few times, and fidgets with his hands in his lap. He actually looks…nervous? Uncomfortable? What exactly is going through his head?

She arches a questioning eyebrow at him.

He coughs lightly, and looks away from her gaze. He's wearing a strange, almost unnatural, expression on his face that is far from his usual scowl but is not quite his rare smile. He tugs the front of his robe straight before looking back up at her. "I feel compelled to state that Lupin's treatment of you has been positively abominable, and there is no excuse for it."

Her jaw drops. This is positively the last thing she would have expected out of his mouth. How does he even know? Does Molly gossip with _him,_ too?

Severus seems to take her speechlessness as permission to continue talking, and he launches into an extended rant about how she—of all people—deserves better than the treatment Remus gave her, followed by a diatribe in which he enumerates all of Remus's seemingly endless flaws.

"He always was a pathetic coward," he says, as Tonks continues to listen in dumbfounded astonishment. "Every time his life seems the least bit difficult he turns tail and runs away in search of greener pastures."

Now her ire is rising. "Remus is no coward. He fought bravely in the last war, and he's fighting bravely in this one—risking his neck each and every day to spy on Greyback's followers. If you think disparaging him like this will make me feel better, then you're dead wrong."

Severus huffs, and sneers. "Of course he'll risk his neck for the war—he's a bloody Gryffindor. That sort of bravado is second nature to him. He'd recklessly take on half the Death Eaters single handed with no wand without once thinking of running away—that's what Gryffindors do. That's not what I meant when I called him a coward."

She frowns. "What _did_ you mean?"

"What I meant, was that when the there's no glorious acts of derring-do to perform, and all that is left is facing up to the messy business of living his life, he is utterly and completely a coward."

She can't take any more of this. She rises to her feet. "This is asinine and petty, and I won't listen to one more minute of it. If this is all you came here to say, then you can leave. Now!" She points at her door.

He stops and stares at her, his mouth opening and closing, his face flushing red. Finally he takes a deep breath and his stance relaxes. "I let my feelings get the best of me. I apologize. It was wrong of me to carry on like this."

She still feels like telling him to leave, but she silently reminds herself that he needs her friendship, and—in some twisted way—he was trying to comfort her. Or at least to advise her. He may not have done a very good job of it, but at least he was trying. She sighs. "Fine. Just don't do it again."

"I won't."

"Good. Now, is this really all you came here to talk about?"

He gives a small nod, and opens his mouth, but hesitates before speaking. "I'm afraid this conversation did not go as I had planned. What I really wanted to say, is…" he hesitates again, "…is that I am deeply sorry you have to be suffering from this…dissolution of your relationship…at the same time as so many other stresses and trials. If you ever have need of someone to talk to, I would gladly offer my services in that capacity."

Severus is full of surprises today. They've spent plenty of time talking about potions, Auror regulations, the deficiencies of Fudge and his administration, and plenty of other such mundane subjects, but he never once seemed interested in discussing her personal life. "Thank you. I appreciate the offer, and I will certainly keep you in mind," she says, though the likelihood of her actually turning to Severus for emotional assistance is practically nonexistent.

"You're welcome. I only hope that this pain in your heart will soon be able to heal, so that you can move on to a new stage in your life. I am certain that someday you will be fortunate enough to find someone who truly deserves you." The simpering smile on his face strikes her as patently false; she feels disgusted with herself for not seeing this coming and she feels disgusted with Severus for ever thinking she would fall for his "sympathetic friend" routine.

She narrows her eyes at him. "And you're doing your best to make sure that you're right there waiting for me when I finally am ready to discover this _more deserving_ man, aren't you?"

His eyes widen briefly, before narrowing into hard slits. His jaw tightens, and his hands clench into fists at his sides.

She shakes her head. "I'm not as naïve as you think I am." When he continues to stare at her speechlessly, she says, "Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. I'll gladly admit my mistake and apologize." She's not exactly offended by Severus's behavior—he's never been one to display proper social graces. But she is determined to make it clear that he needs to give up on whatever notions he may have been harboring about her. She has absolutely no room in her heart for yet another guarded, emotionally-repressed man on a dangerous life-or-death mission—especially one who's wit, humor, and sense of fun are virtually non-existent in comparison to the man she already holds dear.

He flushes red, then white, then red again, and a tight-lipped frown forms on his face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm perfectly capable of telling when I'm not wanted," he says stiffly, and turns toward the door.

"Severus…" she says, trying to stave off his anger.

"Goodbye, Nymphadora," he says without looking at her.

"Severus…just wait," she says, but he stalks out of her flat without a backwards glance, carefully shutting the door behind him.

She sinks into her sofa and rests her head in her hands. Now she's succeeded in offending and humiliating him. She can't help but wonder if she may have done something to lead him on—something to make him believe that she would be more receptive to his advances. She doesn't think that she's treated him any differently from her other friends and colleagues, but it occurs to her that perhaps that was all the encouragement he needed. She certainly hasn't seen or heard of any other women offering him their friendship. No wonder he thought their relationship might lead to something more. She sighs, and slumps back into the cushions.

Why can't anything in her life be easy? She's beginning to wonder if she's destined to live a miserable and lonely life, devoid of family and friends. Maybe she should go see a fortune-teller to find out, so at least she knows what to expect.

After a few minutes of rest, she reluctantly rises to her feet, and resumes her packing.

She takes a box into the kitchen, and looks at her un-washed boots still sitting on the counter. She hasn't moved them since Molly set them there. She once again considers getting rid of them, but finally picks them up, wraps them in a towel, and sets them carefully in the box with Remus's forgotten items. She's made up her mind—this box is coming with her to Hogsmeade.

* * *

The cold mist swirls all around her, and she moves slowly forward, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. She is half-blind in the mist-shrouded night, with only a thin moon to cast a faint light. A large group of dementors has taken up residence in the Forbidden Forest, and she is determined that her first success as the head of security in Hogsmeade will be to rout the creatures. She wants them to be gone before the students arrive. 

The chill is intensifying—she is closing in on them.

Proudfoot is somewhere off to her left; she can still hear his footsteps crunching in the underbrush. By now, he must feel it, too. She hopes he's better at Patronuses than he is at stealth. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear her mind of all her worries, and focuses her thoughts on her memory of the first time Remus told her that he loved her.

She steps through a line of trees into a small clearing, and they are there—nearly a dozen dementors, no more than twenty feet away from her. They rear up as she steps toward them, and a wave of icy cold pierces her to the bone.

Voices and images begin to swirl in her mind—Remus telling her that Sirius is dead—Emmeline's lifeless body cradled in her arms—the pain she felt the first time she tried to morph after being poisoned—Remus telling her that their life together had been nothing more than a fantasy.

She fights back the dark thoughts, focusing intently on her memory of the way she felt hearing Remus say, "I love you." With that thought firmly in her mind, filling her with warmth, she points her wand and says, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A silvery shape erupts from her wand, charging at the dementors. With a startled gasp, she steps back. Something is wrong. That is _not_ her Patronus. How can this be? She's never heard of a Patronus changing form before. Why now? Why her? The great silver wolf bounds around the clearing, sending the dementors into a panicked frenzy. It's Remus. Or, at least, it looks like Remus. This strange new Patronus is an exact copy of Remus in his wolf-form—the form she saw only once before, when it filled her with so much hope for the future. Now, it only fills her with pain, reminding her of just how much she has lost.

She takes another step back, watching as the Patronus chases the dementors back into the deep forest. She doesn't want to see it anymore.

She turns on her heel, and runs back toward the village. In the darkness and mist she stumbles and fumbles her way through the trees, finally catching her foot on an exposed root, and falling hard to the forest floor.

She squeezes her eyes shut to fight back the tears. She's on duty, for Merlin's sake. She can't cry—not now. She still can't fathom how this could happen. A Patronus is supposed to be a protector—so why has hers suddenly taken the form of the malady that drove Remus away from her? What kind of protector is that? What sick part of her subconscious made this happen?

"Tonks! Tonks!" Proudfoot's voice calls to her.

"Over here!" she calls back, sitting back on her heels and brushing the dirt from her hands. She takes a few deep breaths to clear her mind. She may have a sick subconscious, but she still has a job to do, and she can't let something like this stand in the way. She won't think about it now—she'll think about it later.

Proudfoot emerges from the mist beside her, a bright light shining from the tip of his wand. "Are you all right, Tonks?"

She nods. "I'm fine. Just a little bruised from tripping on this bloody root." She heaves herself back to her feet.

"That was a hell of a Patronus," he says.

To her this seems like a gross understatement. The sight of her unexpected new Patronus has shaken her more than the dementors did. She feels tired, and weak, and miserable. If only she could curl up in her bed and sleep for the rest of the week….

"I've never seen dementors fly away so fast before," Proudfoot continues. "We won't be seeing that lot again for weeks."

Tonks brushes her dirty hands on her robe one more time. "That clutch is gone, but there may be more. We need to finish our patrol to be sure."

"Okay. You're the boss," he says, inclining his head at her. "Lead the way."

She takes a deep breath, and grits her teeth, silently praying that she won't have to produce another Patronus tonight. She's not sure if she can.

"Let's go," she says, trudging back toward the path of their patrol-route. She keeps her mind tightly focused on the job at hand—it's the only thing that will get her through the night.

* * *

_September_

The futility of all of her careful planning and long hours becomes clear to her the instant Harry tells her that Draco Malfoy was responsible for beating him and leaving him trapped on the train. No amount of school security will protect Harry from the enemies among his own classmates.

Her mind is still swirling with this uncomfortable thought as they wait by the school gates. She can tell that her distracted responses are beginning to annoy him—she's seen him with that look on his face before, on other occasions when she's prattled at him—but before she can think of anything more helpful to say, she sees the light of a lantern coming down the path from the castle, so she points it out to him.

Her stomach begins to clench when she sees who is carrying the lantern. It is Severus. He has been studiously avoiding her since the unpleasant scene in her old flat several weeks ago, but she saw the sneer on his face when she announce the change in her Patronus to the Order. She worries that he'll say something caustic in front of Harry, and she has no desire to undermine the boy's confidence in the Order by showing him signs of in-fighting. After all he's been through the past few months, he needs to know that they are a united force standing behind him.

Fortunately, after a quick glance at her, all of his attention is riveted on Harry, and he lets loose with some of his characteristic cutting remarks. Just as Harry starts to explain his predicament, Severus turns his eyes back to her.

"There is no need to wait, Nymphadora, Potter is quite—ah—safe in my hands," he sneers.

This is just the sort of thing she was hoping to avoid. She frowns. "I meant Hagrid to get the message."

"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead." She is about to breath a sigh of relief as he steps back to let Harry to pass through the gates, but he turns to address her one last time. "And incidentally, I was interested to see your new Patronus."

Her hands clench into fists as he shuts the gates with a loud clang, relocking the chains with his wand. "I think you were better off with the old one. The new one looks weak." His voice drips with malice. He _wants_ to hurt her—the bastard! He has chosen the most vicious way possible to get back at her for her rejection of his advances.

She is angry at his cruelty, but she also feels empty and abandoned. He may never have been a very _good_ friend, but when you have as few friends as she does these days, losing even a poor friend is painful. Especially when that friend is inclined to hold grudges.

She responds half-heartedly to Harry's farewell, and begins the lonely walk back to the village.

Her heart is heavy. This job may have been little more than Robards's excuse to get her out of the field, but he still placed his trust in her, and already she feels like a failure. On the children's very first day back to school an ugly incident has already occurred right under her nose, and when she got Harry up to the gates she couldn't even walk him up to the school herself. How could she have possibly overlooked that flaw in the security plans? She has no access to school grounds unless admitted by the staff. She'll have to do something to remedy the situation. And on top of that, there are already signs that the dementors in the forest are drawing close to the village again.

It's just another small item to add the increasingly long list of her failures. She failed to protect Sirius, she failed to make Remus's potion, she is failing at her friendships, and now she is failing at her job. No wonder Remus didn't think she was strong enough or good enough to endure a relationship with him. She can't even handle her own life, let alone a life together.

She trudges back into the village. Her shift will be over soon, and she can already tell that her troubled thoughts won't permit her any sleep. But in the last few days she thinks that she's found a solution to her insomnia: a shot of Firewhiskey mixed with a mild sleeping draught. If it works like it has the past few days, she can look forward to a deep, dreamless sleep. And right now, that is exactly what she needs.

* * *

"…and this incident may only be the beginning. With potential Death Eaters influencing their children still at Hogwarts, who knows where the next attack against Harry and his friends might come from? I think it was a crucial oversight for the Aurors not to have access to the school grounds. If we are needed at a moment's notice, waiting for someone to come open the gates for us could make the difference between life and death." She concludes her speech with a firm nod. 

Dumbledore continues to eye her with the mild, slightly sad, expression that he has worn since she walked into his office. It's hard for her to maintain her professionalism when he looks at her like that. When it comes to the Headmaster, her feelings fluctuate almost daily between anger and sympathy. She would never want to be in his position, with so many people relying on him to be virtually omnipotent. And his withered hand is a constant reminder that he is far from that lofty state. Whenever her anger over Remus's assignment begins to rise, she has to remind herself that whatever else he may be, Dumbledore is just a man. A good man, and a wise man, doing the best that he knows how. But still, just a man.

He slowly nods at her. "Your suggestion has some merit, but I am hesitant to include your colleagues among those capable of bypassing the security guarding the school. Until I can be certain of their true loyalties, I do not feel comfortable granting a group of highly trained wizards unrestricted access to my students."

The thought that some of her fellow Aurors may be in league with their enemies never fails to agitate her. "But what if there is some sort of attack or accident at the school and our assistance is needed immediately…?"

"Then you will be able lead your team onto school grounds."

She pauses, taking in what he has just said. "Oh. So…you'll grant _me_ access to the school?"

He smiles. "Yes. I may not trust all of your associates, but I most certainly trust you."

Her face grows warm with embarrassment, and she looks down at her hands. "Thank you, Sir."

"You are most welcome. I'll speak with Minerva later today, and she'll see to it that the security wards are altered to allow you access."

"That would be wonderful."

"It is my pleasure." He pauses, looking her over again with a renewed sadness in his eyes. "I was very fond of the pink," he says. "Is there any chance I might be seeing it again sometime soon?"

She frowns, and bites her bottom lip. She has attempted morphing a handful of times over the past month, but with no effect. She shakes her head. "Right now, it's not looking very likely."

"Your wound will heal, Nymphadora," he says, reaching his uninjured hand across the desk toward her. "It's only a matter of time."

"I wish I could feel so confident."

The look of compassion in his eyes is overwhelming, and she wonders how she could ever be angry at him. Then, he says, "When Remus and I made the final decision to send him deep underground, I had believed that you would be there for him, to give him strength and hope. I had no idea that he would believe it to be necessary to end your relationship. I should have foreseen that consequence of our plan, and I did not. For that, I am sorry."

"Thank you," she says tersely. She can't bring herself to meet his eyes. She wants to tell him that he damn well _should_ have foreseen what this mission would do to Remus; after all, he saw what it did to him in the first war. And in her heart she is almost certain that even if he _had _realized what would happen, he would have encouraged Remus to go anyway. But she bites her tongue. These accusations will do neither of them any good.

"There is one final thing that I feel I should tell you," he says. "I have always believed that there are certain truths—certain knowledge—that is best kept secret, for the welfare of those involved. But that most unfortunate incident at the Ministry last June taught me that I am not always the best judge of what knowledge is best kept secret, and what knowledge is best shared."

Now, she looks up at him, raising her eyebrows in interest. Her heart is beating quickly. Does he have some news of Remus? Did Remus confide something with him? Something about her? She is not she whether she wants to know or not.

"Just before Remus committed to his mission, I shared with him one such piece of knowledge that I had previously hidden. And now I feel it is only fair that I share it with you, as well."

She is befuddled. What could he possibly have to tell her?

He continues. "Several years ago, through much investigation and exploration, I discovered that Fenrir Greyback is the very same werewolf who infected Remus so many years ago."

Her mouth falls open, and she holds her breath. Her mind is reeling with the implications of what this might mean.

Dumbledore speaks again. "Greyback was born with a different name—Nicholas Smith. He attended this school, and was one of my pupils. He was always a bully, and something of a brute, but I had hopes that eventually his naturally cruel nature would be tamed. Sadly, it was not to be. The summer after his fifth year, he was bitten by a werewolf. His family cast him out onto the streets, and my predecessor as Headmaster refused to accommodate him as a student, so he was forced to make his own way at that tender age. He lived of off begging, stealing, and occasionally even charity."

She is fascinated and repelled all at once. She has no desire to feel any compassion for that monster, but it is hard not to feel at least a little sorry for anyone who has had to live through such difficult circumstances.

"Eventually," Dumbledore continues, "Remus's father was one of the people who took pity on Nicholas. The young man had broken his wand, so Remus's father purchased him a second-hand wand, and directed him to some friends who could find him employment. When Nicholas lost his new job after only a month, due to his tendency to terrorize his new employer's daughter, he chose to blame the loss on a faulty wand. He placed himself outside the Lupin household on the night of the full moon, succeeded in luring their son outside, and infected him."

"That's horrible!"

Dumbledore nods. "It is indeed. The first horrible act of countless horrible acts to come. Nicholas was able to evade capture, and fled England. It was not until many years later, during the first war, that a horrifying werewolf by the name of Fenrir Greyback first rose to prominence. And it was not until several years ago that I was able to uncover the truth: that Greyback was none other than Nicolas Smith, returned to England with an assumed name."

Tonks feels her hands shaking. She doesn't know what to do, or what to say. "And you told all this to Remus?"

"Yes."

"Why!?" She shoots to her feet. "Did you want to send him on some sort of vendetta?"

"No. I only wanted to tell him the truth. I owed him that. And I owed it to you, as well."

She puts her face in her hands, and paces back and forth in front of his desk. She doesn't know what to think. She is angry and frightened and confused all at once.

Finally, she stops pacing. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "I know you weren't really trying to send Remus on a vendetta. That was uncalled for."

"I am not offended, Nymphadora. And for what it is worth—I don't think Remus has any intention of pursuing revenge. I believe his motives are nobler than that. He wants to save other children from what he himself has had to suffer."

Tonks nods in agreement. That is the Remus she knows. Of course he would want to protect the children—and the fact that he is protecting them from the very same monster who hurt him so long ago would make the task all the more important to him. That's why he left her. Because taking care of those nameless children is more important to him than taking care of her. Perhaps he even managed to convince himself that she doesn't need to be taken care of?

She closes her eyes and tries to drive those thoughts from her head—she's on duty. She doesn't have the time to indulge in such thinking right now. She takes a deep breath. She knows that she should be proud of Remus for what he is trying to do, but she can't bring herself to feel it. Why couldn't she have been strong enough to help him with this task? She should have been strong enough…

As is so often the case these days, she feels like crying. She takes a few more deep breaths and focuses her eyes on the gilt frame of one of the portraits on the wall until the feeling subsides. She has to focus on her job right now. It's all she has.

"Thank you for telling me this, sir," she says. "And thank you for granting me access to the school. I appreciate it." She turns to head out of his office.

He calls after her, and she pauses to listen. "Do not give up on hope, Nymphadora. And do not let go of your love. It may hurt right now, but in the end it is your love that will give you your greatest strength." His eyes burn bright with conviction, and for a moment, she almost believes him.

* * *

When she returns to her rooms at the Hog's Head after her shift, her thoughts are still centered on her conversation with Dumbledore. 

She sheds her uniform by the door, and makes her way back to her bedroom. She pauses in front of her dresser, where her dirty boots still sit placidly waiting to greet her every morning when she wakes and to bid her goodnight every evening when she lies down.

She runs her hand lightly over their surface. When she pulls it away, the tips of her fingers are covered with a light rusty-brown powder—the last remains of Emmeline Vance.

If Remus dies on his mission, will there be anything at all left of him? Will there be any memorial to his life, and the wonderful man that he was? Or will he be just another dead werewolf?

She wipes her fingers across the front of her shirt, and makes her way back to her tiny sitting room. She sits at the rickety old writing desk and places a new sheet of parchment in front of her. She takes up a quill, and starts to write. "Dear Remus…."

She writes long into the night.

_Author's Notes: _My apologies for the Remus-free chapter, but rest assured that he will be back for the next installment (especially if you leave a review ;-)).


	3. Chapter 3: Carry Your Own Weight

_Author's Notes: _As always I owe mucho thanks to MrsTater for her super amazing beta-help. And I'm working hard to have the last two chapters posted before DH is released fingers crossed. Wish me luck! The story and chapter titles are derived from the song "Stuck in a Moment" by U2, lyrics by Bono.

Chapter 3: Carry Your Own Weight

_October_

As the Order meeting draws to a close, Tonks slips her hand inside her robe and draws out the slightly battered envelope. She does her best to smooth it in her lap.

She has written and re-written the letter dozens of times over the past few weeks, and has been carrying this final version around for nearly a week hoping for an opportunity to deliver it. Her chance has finally come, and she is determined to take it before she loses her nerve.

Everyone stands, and after a few minutes of mingling in the dark kitchen, they begin to file up the stairs to leave headquarters for the night. Tonks quickly sidles over to the wall by the stairs, determined to head off her target before he leaves the kitchen. "Wotcher, Alastor," she says as he draws near.

"Tonks." He gives a curt nod.

"Have you got a minute?"

He furrows his brows. "I suppose so." He steps back against the wall with her as the others continue to file out.

"What is it?"

She tries to stand up straighter, and asks, "Have you heard from Remus lately?"

Moody squints his natural eye, and sniffs. "Saw him last week. He's well. Getting a bit scrawny, but still in good health. His work's slow going, but he seems to be making headway."

It's amazing how relieved she feels even to hear this tidbit of information. Remus is well. He is healthy. He is safe. Thank God. "That's…that's really good to hear."

Moody nods, his magical eye spinning in its socket. "Was that all?"

She bites her bottom lip, and looks down, shaking her head. "No. I also…I wanted to ask if you could give him a letter for me."

He sniffs again as she holds out the envelope in a trembling hand. His magical eye focuses in on it, and she wonders if he is reading its contents. "It's not anything sentimental is it? Or accusatory? You're not begging for him to come back, or blaming him for leaving, are you?"

"No! No—it's nothing like that."

"Better not be. The last thing he needs right now is an emotional distraction. He needs all his vigilance on the job at hand."

She holds the envelope higher, and shoves it toward him. "It's nothing that will distract him. I promise. Please! Just give him the letter."

Moody grabs it. "Fine. But if I sense that this is causing him any problems—any problems at all!—this will be the last time I do anything like this for you. Clear?"

"Perfectly clear." She nods, and lets out a deep sigh as he stuffs the envelope into his pocket. It is done.

She sits back down in the nearest chair, and runs her fingers through her hair, hoping that she's done the right thing. She thinks she has, but more often than not lately she's just not sure what the right thing is.

"Still pining for the werewolf, are you?" A low voice drawls behind her.

She jumps in her seat, and swivels around to see Severus standing in the corner of the room. He is the last person she wanted to see right now. Ever since that night at the Hogwarts' gates he has seized every single opportunity to insult and ridicule both her and Remus, and she has had enough. "What are you still doing here?" she asks.

"According to Molly's ridiculous chore chart, it is my night to do the washing up. And I'm so glad it is, because otherwise I would have missed your touching performance. Your capacity for self-deception is truly remarkable."

Self-deception? Does he really think that Remus wouldn't want to hear from her—that he might even be happy to be rid of her? The anger surges through her like a tidal wave. She rises to her feet and slams her hands down on the table. "This is too much! I can't believe I ever thought you were my friend! You're no friend! You're nothing but a jealous, petty, bitter, nasty, greasy-haired worm without a single ounce of compassion or goodwill in that shriveled sack you call a heart. I don't give a Hippogriff's shit about your opinions of me, or whether you approve of my feelings for Remus! So from now on you'd better keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you!" The words tumble out of her mouth in an uncontrollable rush, and it is only after she stops shouting that she realizes her hands are tingling from pounding on the table over and over again.

She glares into Severus's eyes, and he glares back. Then, inexplicably, he begins to laugh—a low, nasty chuckle rattling out of his throat.

She grits her teeth and balls her fists. "What the bleeding hell are you laughing about!"

"I'm simply delighted to discover that I am, once again, completely right."

"Right about what!?"

"About this."

He waves his wand to conjure a small mirror, and strides around the table to hold it up in front of her face. She gasps in astonishment and takes a step back from her reflection. Instead of the expected sallow face framed by limp brown hair, she sees a ruddy face surrounded by red-streaked black hair, with blazing yellow eyes. Even as she stares at the unexpected visage, it begins to fade. She can feel her eyes and skin growing dull, and her hair falling back into its limp brown locks. After just a minute, her usual sorry reflection is staring back at her.

Her anger is already dissipating, replaced by confusion and surprise. "How? I don't understand. The aconite…"

"Did no permanent damage," says Severus. "Just as I suspected."

She looks up into his eyes as he vanishes the conjured mirror. "Then why couldn't I morph? If it wasn't the aconite, then…" She knows the answer even as she speaks. "Was it really all in my head?"

She _is_ sick. She let herself fall to pieces, and she did nothing to stop it. How could she have ever let herself believe that she could help Remus? She can't even help herself.

"I believe so," he replies. "My experiment seems to confirm it."

She frowns, her ire returning. "Your _experiment_?"

He folds his arms, looking smug. "Of course. Otherwise I'd have never wasted so much time going out of my way to provoke you."

Her mouth hangs open, and she stares at him in dumbfounded astonishment.

"I've done some reading on Metamorphmagi in the past, you see, and I was aware that the gift usually manifests itself in childhood with spontaneous morphing as a reflection of the child's emotional state. I felt that since you were doing nothing at all to break yourself out of the blind depression that has trapped you in this drab state, perhaps sufficient emotional provocation might elicit the same sort of spontaneous reaction. Clearly, my experiment was a success."

It's all she can do to stop herself from hitting him. "You are a heartless bastard."

"Possibly. But I get results."

"Go to hell."

"Eventually, I'm sure I will. In the meantime, I have a problem to solve."

"What problem?"

"The problem of your morphing. Now that I have confirmed my suspicion that you are capable of spontaneous emotional morphs, you need to work on regaining conscious control of your powers as soon as possible, and I intend to see that you do it."

Was this yet another play for her affections? He couldn't possibly be that masochistic, could he? "Why?"

"Because, Nymphadora," he snarls her name, "I'm in something of a bind." He pauses. "Your dear Aunt Bellatrix is attempting to reclaim her former status as one of our Master's favorites, and in an attempt to impress him she has proposed a rather ingenious plan. After the successful ploy to lure Potter out of safety to rescue his Godfather, she plans on re-using the tactic with you, under the Imperius Curse, morphed to look like one of the Weasleys or the Granger brat."

Tonks immediately goes stiff with tension. "Why use me? Why not make a play for one of the Weasleys directly?"

"You're an easier target, wandering about Hogsmeade in a daze both day and night. And you are more versatile. The others would serve no purpose save to lure Potter, but with a Metamorphmagus under his control, the Dark Lord could enact any number of destructive plans."

She sits down, sudden fear churning in her gut. Has her depression really been so obvious? Has she really made herself into a target? She's supposed to be the i _strong /i _ one, for Merlin's sake. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he replies. "I'm the one who's supposed to place you under the Imperius."

"Oh my God," she gasps. "When? How…?"

"Don't worry, you're in no immediate danger," he says dispassionately. "I've convinced them that you haven't recovered from your poisoning yet. But I am, however, under orders to place you under the Imperious as soon as it becomes apparent that your powers have returned. So you can see why it is of intense personal interest to me to insure against any public spontaneous morphing."

"Does Dumbledore know about all this?"

"I haven't yet chosen to trouble him about the matter. But now that I have confirmed my suspicion, I will be certain to apprise him of the situation. In the meantime, I need to ascertain the extent of your willful control over your powers. Try to morph again."

She bites her lip. She wants to be angry at him for his treatment of her, but given the seriousness of the situation she decides that it is best to work with him to prevent a bad situation from getting worse. "I'll try." She extends her hand in front of her, and wills her stubby bitten-off nails to grow longer and rounded, and to deepen in color into a rich rose.

She stares hard at the nails, and for a moment they do grow rounder and shimmer a light pink. But then it is gone, and they are once again ragged and chewed to the quick. Her shoulders slump, and she shakes her head. "I can't hold onto it. I don't understand."

Severus studies her carefully, the corners of his lips turning down. "I have several theories and ideas to pursue, but now is not the time or place. We need to set an appointment to meet in my office at your earliest possible convenience.

Though she is uncomfortable with the idea of once again meeting with him alone, she decides that if he really can help her, it is worth the frustration. They agree to meet two evenings from now.

"And before our meeting," he says, when he sees to it that she has marked the correct day and time in her diary, "I want you to spend at least an hour each day meditating."

"Meditating? What do you mean by meditating? I've never meditated before…"

He glares at her. "You sit in a comfortable spot in a quiet, dark room. You empty your mind of all thought and emotion, and focus on nothing but your own breathing—slowly and rhythmically inhaling, and exhaling. That is what I mean by meditating."

"You expect me to sit in a dark room for a whole hour thinking about nothing but my breathing?" She has no idea how to accomplish such a task. Every time she has a quiet moment thoughts of Remus and Emmeline flood her mind. How can she possibly clear her mind enough to focus on nothing but breathing? Not to mention, how will she ever find the time?

"Exactly," he snaps.

She frowns. She's had enough of him for one day. "Fine. I'll do your bloody meditation, and I'll come to your bloody office. But don't think for a minute that I'm going to like it."

"I don't expect you to like it. I expect you to learn from it."

She rises to her feet. "I'm leaving. Have fun cleaning the kitchen." She spins on her heel and stalks out of the room.

* * *

Her first two meditation sessions are utter failures. The first time, after less than five minutes of attempting to empty her mind and focus on her breathing, all she can think of is Remus, and how much fun they would have together joking about Severus's brusque style of instruction. She finally gives up trying and goes down to the pub instead.

The second attempt leads to a similar Remus fixation, but this time, after a brief interruption to write a report that she's been procrastinating, she tries relocating to see if a new location will help. She moves from her sitting room to her bedroom, sits on her bed, folds her legs under her, and starts to take slow, deep breathes. It almost seems to be working until she opens her eyes and catches sight of her old boots still sitting on her dresser. After that, meditation is impossible.

She arrives at Severus's office already frustrated. She hopes that he has better ideas than meditation, because she sees no hope of that working. His greeting is as brusque as ever. As soon as she takes a seat, he launches into a lecture on learning to control her mind. He explains that she must set aside her emotions and redirect her focus outward, not inward. He says that mental control is essential to her regaining mastery of her powers, and that only by overcoming her fixation on her emotional "issues"—as he puts it—will she be able to develop the mental control necessary.

After more than five minutes he finally pauses, folds his arms across his chest, and says, "Do you have any questions?"

She is feeling obstinate. She takes a deep breath before responding. "Well, Severus, you've been very good at explaining the crucial importance of mental control, but you seem to be acting under the assumption that I lack it. That's a very patronizing attitude, you know."

He frowns. "Are you able to focus on your work? Or have you been easily distracted or lethargic?"

She opens her mouth and tries to think of an answer that would be honest without conceding his point, but before she gets a chance, he continues. "How are you sleeping at night? Are you dreams troubling you? Do you ever struggle to cast non-verbal spells?" He leans forward to look into her eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "How did your meditation go?"

She scowls. "Fine. You're right. I'm weak, and pathetic, and I lack mental control. Are you happy?"

"No. Not at all. That is why you are here."

She frowns. This session had better produce some results. She doesn't want to go through this torture for nothing.

"First things first," he says. "Have you been using any stimulants or sedatives?"

She looks down at her hands, guiltily thinking of the Pepper-Up laced coffee she has for breakfast each morning and the sleeping draught and Firewhiskey that is now an essential part of her pre-bed routine. "Yes," she says softly.

"I suspected as much. There's a tell-tale yellow tone to your skin from prolonged usage of those potions. You need to stop. Today."

She looks up with wide eyes. "Today? But…"

"No excuses. Those potions are damaging your mental and emotional control each and every time you use them. You may have a few difficult days ahead of you, but in the long run you will be grateful to rid yourself of the habit before it becomes even more entrenched."

She grits her teeth and takes a deep breath. She knows that there is truth to what he is saying. She's heard the tales of potion addicts and the multiplicity of ways in which they ruin their lives. She has become too dependent on them, and Severus is right—it's time to stop. "Fine. I'll stop tonight. What else?"

"You need to continue your meditation. It may seem fruitless at first, but I assure you that with time it will become an invaluable tool. I meditate every day, myself."

She refrains from rolling her eyes, and agrees to continue her attempts. "Anything else?"

He purses his lips thoughtfully. "I am given to understand that…women—like yourself—often benefit from…talking about their feelings. This a practice that makes no sense to me, but if it is something that you have found helpful in the past, I recommend you take it up again. You should talk about your…relationship…" he spits out the word like it leaves a foul taste in his mouth, "from start to finish. And about any other issues you have on your mind."

She raises an eyebrow. "You want me talk about Remus with you?"

He leans away from her, sneering. "God, no. I have no desire to hear the sordid details of your pathetic little love-affair. I meant, you should talk with another woman. Molly Weasley or Hestia Jones, perhaps. Vent all your emotions and feelings to one of them. Get it all out in the open, instead of bottling it up inside. Then, maybe, you'll be sufficiently cleansed of the nonsense to begin controlling your thoughts again."

Tonks is taken aback by his unexpected advice. She's talked over bits and pieces of her relationship with Molly, but never the whole thing. Maybe Severus is right; maybe talking it through really will help her let go—at least a little.

Severus commits her to another appointment with him in one week's time, and she goes back to the Hog's Head actually feeling hopeful, for the first time in months. That is, until she is faced with the prospect of falling asleep without her potion

* * *

.

Tonks finds herself back inside Hogwarts castle far sooner than she expected, two days after her appointment with Severus.

Her wet hair is plastered to her head and her face is damp with sleet and tears. She stands next to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, and stamps her foot. Her password isn't working.

"Nymphadora?"

She takes a ragged breath, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. Why does Severus have such an uncanny ability to catch her at her very worst?

"I'm trying to see the Headmaster," she replies.

"That much is obvious," he says. "But Professor Dumbledore is away for the day."

"Damn it!" She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her composure. "Is Minerva here?"

Severus shakes his head. "Professor McGonagall is at St. Mungo's with the Bell family, explaining to them what happened to their daughter."

A ragged sob escapes from her chest. "I should be there—I should help them... Oh, God. I was supposed to be in charge ….and that poor girl was cursed right under my nose. I was so distracted…."

Another sob shakes her frame. She feels like her world is spiraling out of control. She promised Molly that she would protect her children—but now she's proven incapable of doing even that. Katie Bell might die today, and it's all her fault.

She finds herself babbling about Mundungus nicking silver from Headquarters, and how she should have cared enough about her cousin to stop him. She talks about how angry Harry was, and how much it distracted her. She didn't want to deal with Harry's anger, or her own guilt, or the sleet, or her aching feet. She was exhausted from not sleeping for two days, and she was falling apart at the seams.

"I was so distracted!" she sobs again. "I can't do anything right!" She leans against the wall. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want any of this. Why couldn't she have been born a normal Muggle girl, who could have lived in ignorant bliss of the war going on all around her?

Suddenly Severus firmly grips her shoulders and pulls her upright. He gives her a small shake, and scowls at her, holding her gaze. "Pull yourself together, woman! Do you want one of the students to see you like this? Now stand up straight and stop that sniveling. You're acting like child."

She does stand up straight, and his harsh words stop her tears, but she still feels overwhelmed with guilt. "I don't care if I sound like a child. I feel like a child—I'm not up to this job. I can't handle it."

"Oh, shut up! That self-pitying nonsense will get you nowhere. You're better than this! It sickens me to think that a student I accepted into my NEWT-level Potions class and the first new Auror not to wash out of training in six years would let success slip through her fingers simply because her boyfriend broke up with her. I thought you were stronger than that. Was I wrong?"

She stares back at his hard face, and takes a deep breath to clear her mind. She _did_ fight her way from a Potions score of Acceptable to a score of Outstanding in the span of a single year. She _was _the only Auror trainee in more than half a decade to make it beyond her first year. And she _had _mustered the courage to join the Order in spite of the risk of losing her job. No—Severus wasn't wrong.

She shakes her head.

"Good," he says. "Now stop that crying, go back to that village, and do your job! The people down there are frightened and confused. It is your responsibility to show them a picture of strength and competence to ease their fears. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and just go do it!"

He points sternly down the hall, and his tone allows for no contradiction.

He's right. On every point he's right, and she can't deny it, no matter how much she wants to. She blots away her tears, stiffens her spine, and gives him a short nod. "Thank you."

He huffs. "Next time you feel like breaking down, take it to Molly Weasley. I want nothing to do with it."

She nods, and turns and heads down the hall to face her responsibility.

* * *

She finally takes Severus's advice, and arranges to spend an evening alone with Molly.

They have a light dinner together, and then spend the night drinking wine and munching on homemade biscuits. For the first time, she recounts the entire story of her relationship with Remus. It is amazing how reliving the good times and the joy helps soften the pain. And it is wonderfully cathartic to feel Molly's arms around her, holding her while she cries. She wonders why she didn't do this ages ago.

The next day, as she leaves her rooms for her daily patrol, she feels an unexpected new lightness in her heart. The pain of losing Remus is still with her, but for the first time since he left, she truly believes that she can carry on in spite of it.

* * *

As another meeting of the Order draws to a close, Moody approaches her. She bites her bottom lip in eager anticipation of what news he might have to share with her.

"Still doing well," Moody announces without preamble. "Somewhat discouraged by his slow progress, but I'm inclined to think that he's making more of an impact than he believes he is. He always was overly humble about these sorts of things."

"And…" she says, unable to wait any longer, "did you give him my letter?"

Moody nods. "You were right, after all. It seemed to be just the thing he needed."

"Did he send any message back?" It's almost too much to hope for, but she can't help but ask.

"Only to thank you for the letter."

"Oh." She tries not to look too disappointed.

"Tonks—this isn't the sort of thing I normally approve of, I'll say that straight out. Colleagues should avoid romantic entanglements; it only leads to trouble. But your letter really seemed to do him good. So, if you want, I'll take another letter to him next time I see him."

Remus may not have responded in person, but for his reaction to have made an impression on Moody like this means a great deal. Tonks's heart is racing. Maybe she can still help him through this mission, after all. "When do you think you'll see him again?"

"Two weeks—before the next full moon. I'll be giving him his potion for the month.."

She nods. "I'll have you a letter to along with it. Thank you, Alastor."

He grunts. "Think nothing of it."

The next day when she sits down to compose the new letter, she discovers—to her surprise— that her assurances that she is doing well are no longer lies. She really is beginning to feel like herself again.

* * *

_November_

Remus's mother, Cleo, has been writing fearful letters to Tonks for months. Tonks has only had the heart to send her a few short notes full of hollow words parroting the Ministry propaganda about the progress of the war.

Today, after hearing yet another encouraging report of Remus's well-being from Moody, she decides to send Cleo a proper letter. She tells her about her post in Hogsmeade and the duties that have come with it. She writes of Remus's dangerous mission, and apologizes for being unable to convince him not to leave. And she tells Cleo about the break-up, as it is clear that Remus has not yet told her himself.

She doesn't know what to make of Remus's decision to omit news of the break-up from his meager communications with his mother. She suspects that it was merely to protect her from more bad news, but she can't help but wonder if a part of him was holding out hope for an eventual reconciliation, and didn't want to tell his mother until he was certain one way or the other. Regardless of his reasoning, she feels it her duty to tell the truth. And Cleo's increasingly desperate letters have said that Remus's communications with her have been sparse and uninformative. She deserves to be told what is going on. As the widow of one soldier against Voldemort and the mother of another, she has earned the right to the truth.

Tonks wonders if it would be appropriate for her to visit Cleo again. Though she only met her a few times, she liked her very much, and would like to see her again. It would feel as if she were still, somehow, a part of Remus's life. But for now, at least, a letter will be enough.

* * *

Tonks has been meeting with Severus once a week ever since their first appointment. She is surprised at how easily they've fallen back into the rapport that they had established during her Wolfsbane Potion lessons. He has been running her through the same sort of drills that she performed during her Auror training, which were intended to strengthen her resistance to the Imperius Curse. Severus tells her that the primary function of these exercises is to increase mental control and clarity, which can improve all manner of magical abilities, not just resistance to the curse.

Her meditation is also improving. She can now empty her brain for more than twenty minutes at a time. She actually finds herself looking forward to those peaceful interludes in her otherwise hectic life.

She can now unconsciously maintain a simple morph for nearly ten minutes before it begins to fade, and when she concentrates, she can sustain a morph indefinitely. She smiles in satisfaction at her blonde-haired green-eyed reflection in the small conjured mirror in Severus's office. "More than a half an hour now, and it's still holding firm," she says.

"Don't be too happy," replies Severus with his typical cynicism. "Though you have made appreciable progress, you have a long way left to go."

She sighs. At times like this, she feels like she's a school-girl struggling through Potions class all over again. She's certain that Remus was never like this with his students. No—he would have been patient, and kind. He would have lightened the mood with some jokes and encouraging words. God, she misses him.

She may be working well with Severus again, but after what passed between them in August she suspects that there will always be a tension between them that wasn't there before. She can't help but wonder if he's still uncomfortable around her, as well. "You don't have to keep doing this, you know," she offers. "If I keep up with the meditation and mental exercises on my own, I'm sure I'll be able to bring myself back to normal within another month or two. You're so busy as it is, you shouldn't have to worry about helping me on top of everything else." She's not sure whether she wants him to accept her offer or not.

He gives her a long piercing stare before answering. "I never leave a job half done."

She silently nods in reply. Is it possible that after everything he still might want her friendship? Or is this really just about avoiding the plan to place her under the Imperius, as he insists?

"There's still something holding you back," he says. "Something plaguing your mind, and preventing you from regaining full mental control. Do you have any ideas as to what it might be?"

She looks away and shrugs her shoulders, though the image of her blood-crusted boots immediately pops into her mind.

The corners of his lips turn down, and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. "There are two ways we could go about this. Either we could talk about your thoughts and feelings for hours on end trying to sort out the root of your problem—which frankly churns my stomach; or, there is a far simpler method."

She raises an eyebrow. "And that is…?"

"You could grant me permission to utilize Legilimency."

She instinctively draws back from him. "That …just doesn't feel right to me. I don't want you poking and prodding around in my mind."

He furrows his brow. "It is nowhere near so crude as _poking _and _prodding_. Under controlled circumstances Legilimency is often used as a therapeutic tool—in cases such as memory loss, shock, emotional trauma, and so forth. If you don't believe me, feel free to consult a Healer about the process."

She looks down at her hands, pondering his suggestion. She does seem to remember hearing something about this from an old friend who went into Healer training. But the thought of Severus peering into her mind still makes her deeply uncomfortable. "I don't know," she says. "How exactly does this work?"

"You will begin to meditate, clearing your mind of all thought. When you appear to be sufficiently relaxed, I will ask you to open your eyes. We will make eye contact, I will initiate the Legilimency and ask you two or three simple questions. The thoughts that spring into your mind will help us pinpoint the source of your continuing emotional impairment. It's a simple process, and I will see only the thoughts that are directly related to the matter at hand."

She thinks she knows what sorts of questions he will asks, and she is almost certain what thoughts will come to her mind.

"We don't need Legilimency," she says, looking down at her hands. "I think I know exactly what's hurting me. I just…I haven't wanted to talk about it. I wanted to deal with it on my own. Will you please just let me deal with it on my own?"

"No."

Her head jerks up and she glares at him. "You're a nosy old arsehole, you know?"

"And you are a stubborn, insolent child. We all have our failings. Now tell me what your problems are, so I can fix them."

"Oh. So just like that, wave of your wand, and you'll fix everything? That is one of the most arrogant things—"

"Just tell me!"

"I'm a failure," she says. "I keep failing the people who need me the most."

"Who have you failed?"

She can't believe she's telling him all this. She must be mad. "Sirius. If I'd done my job and finished off Bellatrix, he'd still be here."

Severus narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "You must realize that you are only one of half-a-dozen people who blame themselves for Black's death—myself included. Any one of us could have rectified our acts to do our best to save him, and he doubtlessly would have come up with a dozen more reckless ways to walk into his own doom. Let it go."

"So you're blaming him for his own death, are you?" She feels herself flushing with anger.

"I blame all of us and none of us. The point is: there is nothing you can do to change it. Let it go."

She frowns, but remains silent.

"Who else?" he asks.

"Katie Bell. If I'd been doing my job the way I was supposed to, she wouldn't be in hospital right now."

"Have you learned from your mistakes? Are you implementing improvements to your security plan?"

"Yes. We've redoubled our efforts. There's not much more we _could_ do to improve security without implementing martial law."

"Then you've done as much as anyone else would have. If you are truly doing your job to the best of your abilities, and you are adapting your strategies when weaknesses become apparent, that is not failure—it is leadership. All leaders bear the burden of their mistakes, but the good ones make sure those mistakes never happen again. As you are apparently following that pattern, then you have nothing to feel ashamed of."

She wonders if it really is that simple, or if he's merely pandering to her to make her feel better.

"Who else?"

She's tempted to say Remus, but she knows it would be a lie. She's gone over everything with Molly, and she is beginning to see that it was never about failing Remus at all—it was about failing herself. And that is something that she is determined to solve on her own. She wants none of Severus's interference on that point. So there is really only one more answer.

"Emmeline," she says.

"How did you fail Emmeline?" His face is unreadable, but his voice bears a new tightness and tension.

"I was her contact the day she died." She pauses. This is the first time Tonks has confessed this to anyone after months of clinging to her secret. "After her mission she was supposed rendezvous with me to let me know how things went…but I was tired, and stressed, and worried about Remus. I let my own selfish concerns distract me from my duty. I lost track of time… I didn't notice that she was late for our meeting until she was nearly a half-an-hour overdue. And then—like an idiot—I waited another fifteen minutes just to be sure, before I went looking for her."

She looks Severus in the eyes. "She was still warm when I found her. The Dark Mark was still new in the sky. If I hadn't lost track of time...if I'd gone after her as soon as she went overdue, I might have got there in time. I could have saved her. She's dead because of me."

Severus is silent for several minutes as they sit, staring into each other's eyes. Finally, he speaks. "You are not to blame for Emmeline's death. Only the men who killed her are responsible. And so am I."

Her eyes widen in disbelief. "You? What do you mean?"

"I knew of Emmeline's plans that day, and I passed the information along to the Death Eaters. I gave her up to them. If you want to hate someone for Emmeline's death, stop hating yourself. Hate me instead."

She has no words. Her mind is reeling. He can't be lying, can he? She stands, and backs away from him. "I can't…I…I have to leave."

She turns and rushes out of his office, and out of the castle. She runs to the shore of lake, and falls to her knees, trembling in the cold night air. This can't be happening. Did he just confess to be working for Voldemort? What the hell is happening? Dumbledore always said he could be trusted. Dumbledore insists that he can be trusted. How is this possible? She has to speak to the Headmaster. She has to speak to him _now_.

This time, her password works. Once she reaches the top of the spiral staircase and knocks on his office door, it takes several minutes for him to answer. He is in a purple dressing-gown over a long white night-shirt. His face looks pale and more lined than ever. He looks so very old.

"I'm so sorry, Headmaster. I just needed to see you right away."

He graciously ushers her into his office, offering her a seat and a sweet. She declines both, and launches right into her story.

Dumbledore's eyes look sad as she speaks, and his slightly nodding is the only response he gives her until she is done. "I don't understand, Headmaster. I thought you trusted him. How can this be true?"

He looks searchingly over her face, and his lips curve into a thin smile. "Severus must trust you a great deal to tell you this. He is very lucky to have a friend like you."

"So…did you already know?"

He nods. "I did. One of the unfortunate realities of Severus's position in Voldemort's organization is that he must, of necessity, pass along legitimate information from time to time."

"You _let _him give up Emmeline?"

"I did. She was the target of a plot to place her under the Imperius Curse. The very day of her death, Severus and I were meeting to plan a way to free her from the curse in a manner that did not implicate him. Unfortunately, none of the men sent to capture her were equal to the task of enslaving a mind as strong as Emmeline's, so they resorted to torture and murder instead, hoping to impress their master with their brutality when they failed in their assigned task. This is an outcome that both Severus, nor I, had anticipated, and the burden of her death weighs heavy on both of our shoulders. It was a grave mistake. Do not blame Severus for his part in it. His task is a difficult one, and he needs your support—not your hatred."

Tonks's heart is heavy. When she volunteered for the Order, she never imagined the kinds of sacrifices that would be necessary to win. Severus once told her that friendship wasn't a good enough reason to jeopardize his role in the war—she disagreed with him then, and a part of her still does. How _could _they just give up Emmeline like that? But she sees now that Dumbledore has agreed with Severus all along. He too believes that winning is worth every sacrifice. And Dumbledore and Severus are carrying the bulk of those sacrifices on their own shoulders. All these months, Severus has been bearing a burden even greater than her own, and instead of helping him, she has continually insulted him. Whatever his failings might be, Dumbledore is right. Severus needs her support. They both need her support.

"Thank you for telling me this."

"You needed to hear it."

"I need to go talk to him."

Dumbledore nods. "Yes, I think you do."

She excuses herself, and slowly makes her way back down to Severus's dungeon office. She knocks on his door, and in just a moment he answers. "Wotcher," she says.

"I didn't expect to see you again."

She smiles softly. "You can't get rid of me that easily. May I come in?"

He steps aside to allow her to pass, and closes the door once she is inside. She turns to face him. "I went to see Dumbledore. He told me the whole story…about what really happened to Emmeline."

"Oh. I didn't think you would disturb him. He needs his rest."

She rolls her eyes. Even now, he hides his true feelings from her. Some things will never change. "And I needed answers. You couldn't expect me to just sit on that, did you?"

"I suppose not. You are a thorough investigator."

"Yes, I am."

They stand in silence for a minute. After all she's said and heard to night, her mind is spinning, and she doesn't know what needs to be said—or if anything needs to be said at all.

Finally, she asks, "How do you live with it?" She wonders if he has a mysterious solution that she hasn't thought of yet.

"I have no choice but to live with it. I do what needs to be done." His answer is as logical as always. She should have expected it.

"Emmeline wasn't the first person to lose her life as a result of the information that I gathered. But I plan on her being the last." His eyes are cold, and hard, and she wonders how much pain one man can live with before he gives up.

She was ready to give up after experiences that seem trivial in comparison. It's time she learned from his example.

One question still troubles her. "Why did you tell me?"

He looks at the ground, his face blank and unreadable. "My father was a devout Catholic. He spent my entire childhood trying to pound his religion into his pagan wife and son. There are still times when I feel compelled to…confess my sins."

"Dumbledore already knew. He was already your confessor. So why did you tell _me_? You didn't have to do that."

"She was your friend. You were not to blame for her death."

She still can't tell what he is thinking. She never really knows what's going on in his head. But, at last, she is certain that he is truly her friend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I owe you an apology for my reaction," she says. "I should have asked you for the whole story myself, instead of jumping to conclusions like that."

"Your reaction was perfectly understandable. No apology is necessary."

"You have it, nonetheless."

He nods, and they stand in silence for another minute.

"I owe you a second apology," she says.

"For what?"

"When you came to my flat, in August, to recommend the Hog's Head to me…I jumped to the conclusion that you were trying to come on to me when you were only trying to be a friend. I'm sorry for assuming."

The corners of his lips turn down. "Again, no apology is necessary. Your assumption was correct. But rest assured I've since given up any such notions. You have nothing more to fear from me."

He never fails to surprise her, and she is at a loss at to how to respond. On top of everything else that has passed between them tonight, this is just too much for her to process. She'll worry about it later. She simply says, "Oh. Okay. Well…I guess…I'll be leaving now. Goodnight, Severus."

He nods curtly. "Goodnight, Tonks."

* * *

When she gets back to her room, she stands in front of her boots on the dresser, staring at them.

Severus was right. It's time to let go.

She lights fire in her grate and works it in to a roaring blaze. Then she carries the boots to the fire, takes one last look at them, and throws them into the flames.

Her smile of triumph quickly changes to a frown and a series of hacking coughs as the black smoke of burning rubber begins to pour into her room.

She casts a quick _Aguamenti _to extinguish the fire, laughing as tears stream out of her burning eyes. "So much for dramatic gestures!" she says to herself before vanishing the whole bloody mess.

She opens her window to let the smoke out, and gets into her wardrobe to pull out her box of Remus's things. She rifles through it to find one of his jumpers, and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself in it's bulky warmth before lying down to go to bed.

It's been a long night, and for the first time in months she falls asleep the instant her head hits the pillow.

_Author's Notes: _Okay, so last chapter I lied when I said you'd be seeing Remus again in this one. But that's only because I decided that he deserved more than just one scene tacked on at the end. So in the next chapter you can look forward to more than half the chapter being devoted to a reunion with Remus. In the meantime, a review might earn you a night snuggled in one of Remus's old jumpers, and all the sweet dreams that come with it. ;-)


	4. Chapter 4: If Your Way Should Falter

_Author's Notes: _I owe a great deal of thanks to my wonderful beta-reader MrsTater. If anything in this particular chapter seems familiar, it's because a few of the ideas and a few snippets of the dialog appeared in my story "Christmas With Beaky Part II: The Gift", available through the Harry Potter Fiction Index on my LJ. The story and chapter titles are derived from the song "Stuck in a Moment" by U2, lyrics by Bono. **ETA**: This is the new version, revised post-DH.

Chapter 4: If Your Way Should Falter

_December_

The first week of the month Tonks's parents show up in Hogsmeade, unexpectedly while she is on patrol. She's barely spoken to them since July, yet they drag her into an alley and spend most of an hour trying to convince her to leave the front lines and come stay with them.

She insists that she won't abandon her post. When her father finally accuses her of staying just to be with "that bloody werewolf," she storms out of the alley and leaves them behind.

Her mother sends her a final letter of farewell and apology, and in her heart she wishes them well. She will always love her parents, but her path is not what they would choose for her. She's making her own way.

* * *

When Molly invites her to spend Christmas at the Burrow, Tonks declines. She is going to work a whole day, from five o'clock Christmas morning to five o'clock the following morning. She wants the other Aurors to have the chance to spend the holiday with their loved ones. Besides, she's become accustomed to keeping her own company over the past few months, and the thought of several days in a crowded house makes her feel claustrophobic.

She does, however, accept Severus's invitation to dinner on Christmas Eve. He says that he is going to cook, and she is intrigued by the possibility of the surly Potions Master being a closet gourmet. They settle on an early dinner, right after her shift, so that she can get home early to sleep before her double-shift starts on Christmas.

After she shift ends she hurries back to the Hog's Head to change into some nicer robes. On a whim, she pulls out a brightly beaded necklace—the first Christmas present Remus ever gave her. The beads are tiny alphabet blocks, and they spell out the words: "Hug me, I'm an Auror." Staring at it now she feels the same giddy thrill that she experienced the first time she saw it, and a happy smile forms on her face. She only hopes that Remus can find something to give him similar cheer this Christmas. After looking at it for another moment, she impulsively fastens it around her neck.

She arrives at the school a few minutes early, and ducks into one of the girls bathrooms to morph into something more festive. She chooses to morph her hair into a deep red, and turns her eyes a vivid green.

When Severus opens the door to his rooms, his eyes widen, his lips curl down in a small frown, and he takes a sharp breath. He looks utterly shocked.

"What?" she says, walking past him into the room, smiling. "You don't approve of my holiday colors?"

He shakes his head a little, as if to clear his mind. "One of the students could have seen you."

She rolls her eyes. "No one saw me. I may not be the best in stealth, but I am still an Auror, after all."

"Indeed you are."

The dinner is a simple meal of lamb, potatoes and vegetables, but everything is rich with the sort of delicate flavor that she expected from a man who spent much of his life making a living off of selecting, preparing, mixing, and cooking ingredients into specialized concoctions.

Their conversation is light and impersonal. He tells her about the new Defense curriculum which he has instituted this year and the ridiculous things some of his students write in their essays. She tells him about the new volunteer brigade which she has organized to keep dementors away from the village, and catches him up on some of the internal political wrangling going on at the Ministry. It is refreshing to have such a casual conversation again, free of any urgency or ominous overtones. The only strange thing is the way Severus seems determined to avoid meeting her eyes.

When she finishes her meal she says, "Well, now I know where to come next time I get tired of the slop Aberforth churns out every day."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I rarely have time to prepare my own food anymore."

"Hmm. But you used to?"

"Yes. I used to make my own meals once or twice a week. The elf-prepared food is good enough, but there's a certain satisfaction that comes from selecting my own ingredients and preparing them exactly as I like."

"Maybe someday you can give me lessons."

"Perhaps. Someday."

After they finish their meal, they sit by the fire, enjoying a glass of sweet elf-made wine. "This is excellent," she remarks. "How did you ever afford this on a teacher's salary?"

He gives her one of his rare smiles. "I have my ways."

She tells him more about her plans for improving the screening of mail and packages into Hogwarts, and he tells her about the general decline in the quality of specialized potions ingredients since the beginning of the war. Eventually, they lapse into silence, staring at the fire.

She feels his eyes on her, and she glances at him. He is studying her face, with his eyes traveling slowly downward to her chest. She quickly looks away, pretending that she didn't notice.

Is it possible that he still fancies her, even after how badly she's behaved the past few months? She wonders what he would do if she reached out to touch his leg. Would he touch her back? Would he try to kiss her?

She looks back up. His eyes are still on her chest. She bites her bottom lip nervously.

He glances back up at her face. "Your necklace is ridiculous."

Leave it Severus to pick out the little piece of Remus in her outfit, and insult it. She frowns, flushing with embarrassment at her own silly thoughts. She looks away from him, grasping her necklace possessively. It must be the wine—she's had far too much to drink tonight. Of course he was only looking at her necklace. He told her he was no longer interested in her. She has no reason not to believe him. It's absurd, really. Who is she going to start fantasizing about next? Dawlish?

"Of course it's ridiculous," she says. "That's the point."

He shakes his head. "I'll never understand your sense of humor."

"Your loss," she replies. "I'm generally thought of as quite funny."

"Yes. I've no doubt the Weasley twins find you endlessly amusing."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She sits up straight, stretching her back. "Well, I think I've got to be going now. I want to get in a good night's sleep before my long day starts at five."

"Of course."

They rise to their feet and he sees her out. As she walks back to the Inn she chuckles at her unexpected flight of fancy, and chides herself to go easy on elf-made wine in the future. If Remus knew what had happened, he'd never let up with teasing her about it. She wonders if she'll ever get the chance to tell him. It would be worth reliving the embarrassment to hear the sound of his laughter again.

* * *

She is nearly dead on her feet when her grueling double-shift draws to a close. She wants to kiss Hooda on the mouth when he shows up nearly an hour early to relieve her. He tells her to consider it his Christmas present.

She trudges home through the new snow, eagerly looking forward to her warm bed. She unlocks the front door to the Inn using the key that Aberforth gave her, and steps inside. She closes the door, and pauses to brush the loose snow from her cloak.

She hears the sound of a chair shifting, and jumps in alarm, pulling out her wand. She stares across the dark pub. There is a lone figure seated at one of the tables.

It is Remus.

Is this real? Is he really here? Or did she fall asleep on her feet on the way home?

"Tonks," he says hoarsely, rising to his feet. "I didn't mean to scare you. Aberforth let me wait here to see you—he didn't know when you'd be back. I fell asleep…."

She has to be sure it is him. She can't make a mistake about this. "What did I get you last Christmas?"

He takes a step toward her, his eyes hungrily boring into her face. "A cloak, gloves, and a scarf."

Her wand hand trembles as she lowers it. "Where are they?"

"In storage at headquarters. There were too fine. They would have made me stand out too much. I needed something shabbier. Fortunately, I didn't throw out my old cloak." The bitter irony in his voice is nothing like the Remus she remembers, but all of his facts are correct. It _must_ be him—however uncharacteristic he seems.

She re-sheaths her wand, and clutches at the nearest chair to keep herself upright. "It's really you," she says. "I'm not dreaming, after all."

"No. And neither am I. Though I had to pinch myself to be sure." His smile is hesitant—questioning—and it fills her heart with warmth.

Oh, God. He's really here.

His smile fades. "You're exhausted. I'm sorry. I shouldn't bother you like this when you need to sleep. I should g—"

"No!" She steps toward him, suddenly energetic. "Don't you dare leave, Remus Lupin! Don't you dare!"

He freezes, his words dying on his lips.

"Can you…" Her mind is in a haze and her tongue feels thick. "I know you've been waiting a long time already, but can you…maybe…possibly…come upstairs with me, and wait just a bit longer?"

His eyes grow wide. "Up to your room?"

Damn—she's saying the wrong things already. "I have a sitting room! You can wait there. I just need to wash up. And a Pepper-Up Potion to clear my head. I can't do this right now Remus. I can barely stand. Please—just stay, and wait for me. I don't want you to leave, but I can't do this yet. Not yet. Please?"

He shuffles his feet, and finally nods. "Okay. I'll stay."

He follows her back up to her rooms, and she gets him settled on her sagging sofa. She lingers in the door of her bathroom, watching him. "I'm going to clean up a little, and get that potion. Don't…Please don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She nods, but leaves her door ajar, just in case. She splashes some warm water over her face and hair, and runs a brush through the tangled mess before pulling it back into a short ponytail. She scrabbles through her cabinet, searching for an old bottle of Pepper-Up that she hid behind her towels. At last, she finds it. She measures out a double-dose into a tumbler. She's going to need all the help she can get to make it through this conversation.

Her heart is pounding like a Bludger in her chest. She can't believe he is really here. He sent no response other than a simple "thank-you" to the three letters she wrote him. Yet, suddenly, here he is. Is he as nervous as she is? Is that even possible? She takes a deep breath and downs her potion in a few quick gulps, then closes her eyes, grips the basin and takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear her mind like she does during meditation.

Finally, she opens her eyes and stares at herself in the mirror. She can't delay this any longer. It's time to face him.

She forces a thin smile onto her face, and steps back out into the sitting room.

Remus looks up at her and his smile looks just as forced as hers feels. God, this is going to be hard.

She takes a seat on the far end of the sofa from him, leaving a large gap between them. She glances around the room, at the clothes scattered on the floor and furniture, and the messy stacks of parchment littering her desk. "I'm sorry about the mess," she says. "I've been…busy."

"Not to worry. It doesn't bother me. I know you're busy. Head of Security for Hogsmeade and Hogwarts…that must be a big responsibility." He looks down at his hands, and his feet shuffle on the floor.

"It is. How did you hear…?" She'd never told him the exact nature of her position in Hogsmeade.

"Alastor told me. A few months ago."

"Oh." Has he been asking about her? And what in the bloody hell has Moody told him? Does he know about her morphing difficulties—or her Patronus?

They sit in silence for a minute, both of them looking at the floor, shuffling their feet. At last, Remus perks up. "I almost forgot," he says, reaching into his cloak, and pulling out a small package. He holds it out to her. "Molly asked me to bring you some of her ginger biscuits."

She takes the package, a nervous thrill running down her spine as her fingers brush against his. "Thank you. I love Molly's biscuits."

"I know. You're welcome."

She sets the package down on her coffee table. They sit in silence for another moment. Why won't he talk to her? What's really happening here? "I know you didn't come here and wait all night just to give me Molly's biscuits—did you?"

He shakes his head. "No." He looks up into her eyes, his face full of longing. "I wanted to see you again."

Her head is spinning, and she wants to throw herself into his arms right then and there, but she holds back. She can't push this. She's wanted this moment to come for nearly six months, and if she pushes too hard it will ruin things before they even get started. She takes another deep, calming breath. "I've wanted to see you again, too."

He continues to look into her eyes. Her heart is racing.

"I needed to come," he says. "I needed to thank you, in person, for your letters these past few months. You don't know what it meant to me to hear that you were doing well. And to hear…to hear that you'd forgiven me."

"Of course I'd forgiven you. You did what you believed was right. You did it to protect me. I may not have agreed with you, but…I couldn't stay angry at you either."

He clasps his hands together, and looks down at them. "Those first months underground…It wasn't the living conditions, or the stress of my assignment that was difficult. I've faced those sorts of things before. I can handle them. What was hurting me—what was tearing me up inside each and every day—was the thought that I'd made you hate me."

Tears well in her eyes, but she fights them back. "I never hated you Remus. Not even for a second. And I never will."

He is still looking down at his hands, but she thinks that she can see the gleam of moisture in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, just above a whisper.

They are silent again for a minute. Tonks speaks first. "I didn't think you'd be able to get away from the pack for Christmas."

"I didn't either," he replies. "It was a bit of good luck, really. The full moon was five nights ago…"

"I know," she says, immediately regretting the quickness of her reply. What would he think if he knew just how closely she still tracks the moon cycle?

He stares at her for a moment, and then continues. "The morning after the full moon, when we were all still worn out from the transformation, we were raided by the Werewolf Capture Unit. A few were captured, and the rest were scattered all over the countryside. Those of us who can Apparate scattered even further. It's going to take weeks for the pack to fully regroup."

Her guts clench. What if Remus had been captured? What would have happened to him? Would Dumbledore's word have been enough to protect him? She licks her lips, and asks, "Was Greyback captured?" she asks, even though she is sure she would have heard of it if he had been.

Remus shakes his head. "No. He escaped." He pauses. "I was planning on going back as soon as I reported to Dumbledore—to try to take advantage of Greyback's absence to sow some seeds of dissent. But the Headmaster insisted that I take a few days off, to regain my strength."

She studies him intently for the first time, forcing herself to look beyond the nervous haze in her mind. He looks thinner, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair is longer, and the grey is more visible than ever. He looks so very weary. This mission is hurting him in ways she can't even imagine.

She bites her lip, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "Where have you been staying?"

"I've been at the Burrow for Christmas."

He was with Molly? She could have spent the whole holiday with him if only she'd accepted the invitation.

He speaks again. "Molly told me she invited you." He pauses before adding, "I thought you stayed away because of me."

She sits up straight, shaking her head vehemently. "No! I didn't even know you were there."

"Then why didn't you come?" he asks, looking back up at her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

She stumbles through an explanation of her double-shift, and when he asks her why she wasn't with her family she gives him an edited version of how her parents tried to get her to leave with them.

"I don't know what they were thinking when they asked me," she says.

"They were thinking that they loved you, and wanted to protect you." His gaze is intense, and she can feel the heat of her cheeks flushing.

She mumbles some sort of feeble agreement, looking away from those piercing brown eyes of his. It's amazing that in spite of all the times she's imagined what she would say to him if she saw him again, she can't think of a single thing to say. "Mr. Fluffy is doing well," she finally blurts out.

His eyes widen. Clearly, news about their pet rabbit was not what he expected, either. "That's…good to hear. Is he here with you?"

She nods. "Aberforth let me set up a hutch out in the barn with the goats. I don't see him as often as I should, but Aberforth has been taking very good care of him. He's amazingly good with animals."

"Yes—Hagrid told me as much when I was working at Hogwarts, but I never really had a chance to get to know him."

"No surprise, there. He's dreadfully taciturn, but I've managed to bring him out a little. The key is to get him talking about something he enjoys, like fishing…and, I'm babbling a little, aren't I?"

Remus smiles at her—the same mischievous grin that captured her heart nearly two years ago. God, it feels good to see that grin again. "Just a little."

"That's what I get for taking that double dose of Pepper-Up."

"You took a double dose?" He raises his eyebrows.

She smiles sheepishly. "I was dead on my feet, and I really _really_ wanted to stay awake for this."

He continues to smile back at her. "Thank you." He is quiet for a moment, and his eyes drift down to her chest. "You still have the necklace," he says.

She reaches up to touch it lightly with her fingers. Thank God she didn't take it off after dinner. "I do. I was thinking of you."

He studies her face for another moment. "I've missed you. Very much."

The Bludger in her chest feels like it's about to break out. "I've missed you, too."

"Harry…told me something about your Patronus. He said that it had changed…" she flinches. Did Harry realize what her Patronus was—or what it meant? Remus continues, "I was worried about you. Are you…are you really doing as well as you've told me?" The concern in his eyes is potent. She can only imagine the hell he's been going through the past few months, yet all his worry is for her. No wonder she loves him so much.

She insists that while things were hard at first, she is doing fine now.

He nods, but his eyes stray up to her limp brown hair. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she says. "If you're worried about the hair, don't be. It's not stuck this way, or anything." She briefly explains to him about the plot against her, and how the drab appearance protects both her and Severus, but she avoids mentioning just how long she really was stuck with the brown. The last thing he needs right now is something more to worry about—the plot troubles him enough. He's frightened and anxious for her, and it takes her several minutes to reassure him that she and Severus have things under control.

When she finally calms him, he says, "It's good of Severus to look after you like this."

She nods. "It is good of him. But there are times when I wonder if his help isn't more trouble than it's worth. He's not the easiest person to get along with."

"I can imagine," he says, his soft smile returning. "So…you're really sure that you're safe?"

"As safe as anyone is right now. And as far as I'm concerned, it's not my safety we should be worrying about—it's yours. Has Alastor been getting you enough potion every month?"

"Yes. It hasn't always been easy, but we've managed it."

"Does it help?" She can't imagine that transforming out exposed in the woods would ever be easy, but hopefully the potion eases the process.

"It does help, quite a bit." He nods.

"Does the pack notice?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I only wish they _did_ pay me more notice." Slowly, he begins to open up about what life has been like for him with the pack. It amazes her that after months of living on the streets, or, when he's lucky, in abandoned warehouses, he can still place her needs ahead of his own. It testifies to just how strong he really is.

He tells her how his only real accomplishment so far has been to send advance warning to the intended targets of Greyback's attacks. And, thanks to the potion, he has been able to run ahead of the transformed pack to frighten off any other potential victims. These acts alone fill Tonks with admiration and respect for his ingenuity and courage, but Remus belittles them, like he thinks his accomplishments are virtually meaningless.

"You've been saving people's lives," she says, finally giving in to the impulse to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. "How can you call that meaningless? The people you've saved wouldn't say that."

"I'm certain the people whom I _failed_ to save would say something rather different—those that are still able to talk, that is," he snaps back at her. He's never talked to her with this kind of anger in his voice before, and it shakes her to her core. It's clear that it's not her he's angry with—it's himself.

"It's a war," she says quietly, thinking of Emmeline. "Wars have casualties. We can't save everyone."

"But I should!" He rises to his feet and paces across the room. "I should have done more. I should have tried harder."

She stands, but does not approach him. "You were trying your best—I know you were."

"No," he says flatly. "I wasn't." The bitterness and sorrow in his voice are palpable. What can she do to comfort him, without driving him away?

He starts to speak again, in a low flat tone, as he stares stubbornly down at her empty grate. "The other werewolves all used to band together into smaller, family-sized packs. But over the past year Greyback and his most fervent supporters have forced the packs to together into one larger group. When packs resisted the move, he would attack them, beating and killing their leaders. Some of them follow him out of lust for the power he promises them, but most of them follow him out of fear or desperation."

She doesn't know where his story is going, but she listens quietly. If there is something he needs to get out, she won't interrupt him.

"The new pack is controlled by Greyback and his chief lieutenant," he continues. "A foul brute of a man called Ulric." She listens in horror as he describes the escalating depravity of Greyback and Ulric. He's speaking in euphemism whenever possible, but it chills her to the core to realize what he's really saying—that those two monsters have been systematically molesting the children of the pack. She can see how utterly demoralized and helpless Remus feels in the face of that inhuman evil.

"Remus?" she says, tentatively, stepping toward him.

"Oh, God, Tonks. I don't know what to do. Every time I see them going near one of those children I want to rip their heads off with my bare hands. But I can't do a damn thing. If I dared to openly defy Greyback or Ulric, my li—" he stops short and takes a deep breath, "my mission would be over. One of the girls' fathers tried to stop them, and they beat him to death in front of the whole pack."

She feels sick, and sad, and angry. If the bigots in the Ministry—the very people she works for—hadn't made such restrictive laws, those children might be in school. Their parents might have jobs. They might be safe from monsters like Greyback and Ulric. The Ministry should have been helping those people—not ostracizing them. It seemed an almost impossible task for a single man to clean up this tremendous mess created by the Ministry's intolerance. She feels ashamed of herself for struggling so much with a job that seems simple in comparison.

She moves to stand next to him and wraps an arm around his back, holding him close. "I'm so sorry, Remus. This is a tragedy. A horror story. But if anyone can turn things around and help those children, it's you." She knows her assurances are feeble even as she voices them, but what else can she do?

He shakes his head, a few tears sliding down his cheeks—the only other time she has seen him cry was when he told her of Sirius's death. "I can't," he says. "I can't. I'm nothing but a sodding coward. I should have stood up to them. I should have helped that man protect his daughter. I should have done what I came to do, and fought to protect the innocent victims who couldn't protect themselves. But I was a coward. I stood by and let it all happen. All I cared about was saving my own pathetic life. So I stood by and let that man die. I let those children be brutalized, just to save my own worthless skin." He pounds his fist against the mantle, and his face is twisted in self-loathing.

She's never seen him look so far away—not even on the day he left her. How can she possibly help him with this? She needs to be strong for him—to find a way to carry him through this—but she has no idea what to do.

"They would have killed you, Remus. And with you dead, the rest of them would have been even worse off. They would have had no one looking out for them. No one to care. No one at all working against Greyback. You would have sacrificed yourself for nothing."

"That's what I try to tell myself," he says. "That's what Dumbledore told me, as well. But it's so hard to believe it. Every time I close my eyes I see that man's bloody and broken body lying before me. I see the terrified eyes of those children." He tells her how isolated and out of touch he felt all holiday at the Burrow. He was surrounded by happy, loving people, and all he could think about was the pain and suffering he'd left behind. He says that he felt he had no place in that happy world—that he no longer belongs there. As he speaks her heart breaks for him again and again.

He pulls away from her, and strides to the window. "As the full moon drew closer this month, I knew I couldn't stand it anymore," he says. "The Werewolf Capture Unit raided the pack because I owled them a tip. I led them straight to us. Greyback and Ulric are still out there, and innocent men and women are in captivity, all because I was too much of a coward to face those monsters myself."

"You did the right thing, Remus. If those men and women really are innocent, then Dumbledore will see to it that they're treated justly."

Remus says that he wants to believe her, but that they both know Scrimgoeur is more in line with Umbridge's thinking than with Dumbledore's, and in times like these werewolves make an easy scapegoat for the Ministry to pursue.

He says that Dumbledore is trying to find volunteers to take in and employ the werewolves who willingly leave Greyback, but so far no one has committed to the task.

He starts to pace, and she tries to reassure him that Dumbledore will find places for everyone who wants help. She tells him that one way or another, things will work out. But even to her own ears her words sound hollow, and empty. Just a few months ago she was every bit as lost and despairing as he is now, and she is only just getting over it. She's afraid that she might not yet have the strength to pull him out of this.

She takes a deep breath. "When…when are you going back?"

"I don't know," he says, still pacing. "I know that I need to go back. I need to help the smaller groups evade being re-assimilated by Greyback. And I need to continue to work with those who _have_ been re-assimilated, to help them realize that Greyback's way is not the only way. I know I need to be there to help them. But I don't know if I can make myself go back. I don't know if I have it in me. I don't think I'm strong enough."

As she watches him war with himself, she sees herself breaking down outside the Headmaster's office the day Katie Bell was cursed. That was her moment of crisis, and this, right now, is Remus's moment of crisis. Somehow, she needs to pull him out of it, just like Severus pulled her out. Severus's words the night he told her about Emmeline come back into her mind. When she asked how he lived with the burden of guilt over Emmeline's death, he replied: _"I have no choice but to live with it. I do what needs to be done."_

Severus was right. Sometimes sacrifices must be made.

She strides over to Remus, grips his arms, and looks him steadily in the eye. "You have to go back." Her heart is crying out against her words, telling her to hold him—to comfort him—to let him stay with her forever. But right now, those children need him more than she does. This is her sacrifice. This is _their_ sacrifice. "You _will_ go back."

He stares down at her with wide tear-filled eyes. With a soft, trembling voice he answers, "I'm afraid. What if I fail?"

"You won't fail," she says. "One way or another, you will succeed. I know you will. I believe in you."

He shakes his head. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

"You are. You are!" she says, gripping him even tighter.

"How do you know?"

"I know it because you were strong enough to live nearly your whole life with this curse—facing horrible prejudice—and you are still the kind of man who cares enough to risk his life for people he doesn't even know. You were strong enough to use the loss of your father as a tool, to motivate you fight. You were strong enough to carry on and build a life for yourself after losing nearly everyone you cared about in the space of a few days. You were strong enough to face life each and every day with humor and compassion in spite of all the odds against you. And you were strong enough to leave the people who loved you, and who you loved, in order to help the people who no one else cared about."

Her voice starts to break as tears well up in her eyes, but she refuses to let the emotions take over.

"But you care about them. You love those people, Remus. I could see it in your eyes when you spoke of them. You love them so much that it's killing you to see them suffering. And it's your love that will give you the strength to succeed."

She raises her hands to his face, brushing away the two tears that are sliding down his cheeks. She can see in his eyes that she's saying the right thing. Somehow, she's found the words he needed to hear.

"Love is something Greyback and Ulric know nothing about. All they know is fear, and hatred, and brutality. But love will win out over fear and hatred any day. So you go back, and you show them what it means to love. Show them how your love makes you stronger than Greyback could ever hope to be. Show them that, and they'll follow you. They'll turn their backs on Greyback. I know they will."

Remus shuts his glistening eyes, and wraps his arms around her. He takes several deep breathes, holding her tight against his chest. He holds her so tightly she can hardly breath. He reaches up to twine his fingers through her hair, and he kisses her forehead.

Her heart feels ready to burst. He still needs her—he still wants her. She wants to shout for joy and burst out in tears all at once.

She looks back up into his eyes. "Remus, when you go back there—when you have to face that nightmare again—know that my heart will be with you. You'll _never_ be alone."

His smile is all the answer that she needs—but he gives her more. He cups her face in his hands, and kisses her.

The rest of the world disappears. There is only him, and his lips moving against hers.

As their embrace intensifies, she feels that she could spend the rest of her life like this, in Remus's arms. But she knows that inevitably, it will end. And all too soon, it does.

Despite his clear reluctance to let her go, he says, "I can't stay. If I don't leave now, I don't know if I'll ever be able to pull myself away."

"I know. I understand," she says, fighting back tears.

She walks him back through the still-empty pub, and at the door they kiss one last time. "Never forget," she whispers, "I believe in you. I believe in you."

He turns and walks away, leaving a single line of prints in the freshly fallen snow.

* * *

When she arrives for her next regular meeting with Severus, he is gruffer and more snappish than usual—which is saying a lot.

After a few minutes of their usual mental exercises, he pulls out a dusty old book of paint samples that looks as if it came from a Muggle paint shop. She is fascinated, and has no idea how he would have come into possession of such an item. He starts flipping to random colors, instructing her to emulate them with her hair and eyes.

She plays along with this strange new game for several minutes, when, out of the blue, he asks, "Did Lupin come to see you after Christmas?"

She sees no reason to lie, so she tells him yes. He scowls, and flips to a new page, picking out an ugly puce for her hair, and a bright orange for her eyes.

As she morphs, he says, "Did you sleep with him?"

"What?!" She loses all focus, and her morph disappears.

"You heard me," he sneers.

"That is none of your bloody business!" she snaps. "And if you don't stop this line of questioning _right now,_ then I'm leaving."

He clenches his teeth, and flips to a new page of colors. He spends the next few minutes pointing at different squares of color and barking out his orders: "Hair!" and then "Eyes!" She practices her morphs in silence. He's in one of his difficult moods, and she has no intention of contributing to it by speaking up.

Finally, he chooses a lovely shade of turquoise for her hair. He watches in tight-lipped silence as she copies it exactly. "Now change your eyes to match," he says, staring directly into her eyes.

As she begins to change her eye-color, she starts to feel dizzy and uncalled-for memories of Remus pop to the surface of her mind. It takes her a moment to realize what is happening, but her reaction is instant.

She slaps him hard across his face and rises to her feet.

She feels violated and used. "How dare you! How dare you pry into my mind like that!?"

He says nothing, but merely raises his own hand to cover the angry red welt on his cheek.

"You are impossible. Every time I think you've figured out how to be a real friend, you go and do something like this to bugger it up. I'm sorry, but I just can't take it anymore. I will always be grateful to you for the help you've given me over the past year, but I just can't have you in my life right now. I can't trust you. I just can't." She shakes her head. "Our friendship is over. I'm sorry."

He continues to stare at her with his hand on his cheek, and a glare on his face. She shakes her head again, and walks away.

_Author's Notes: _Thanks for reading. If you leave a review, Remus might decide to pay you an unexpected visit next time you have a hard day. ;-)


	5. Chapter 5: It's a Long Way Down

_Author's Notes: _Thanks again to my beta-reader, MrsTater. The story and chapter titles are derived from the song "Stuck in a Moment" by U2, lyrics by Bono. Only one more chapter to go! **ETA:** This is the new version, revised post-DH.

Chapter 5: It's a Long Way Down

_February_

As the tiny owl taps on her frosty window, her heart leaps. She knows exactly what it is carrying.

She throws open the window to invite the little bird inside, and hastily snatches the tattered scrap of paper from its leg. The note is short and simple, as all of Remus's notes have been over the past two months. He writes to reassure her that he is still well, and to convey some good news: he was able to shepherd another of the small independent packs to safety before Greyback's cronies could track them down. Four of the children that Greyback and Ulric used to brutalize are in the pack. And now, thanks to Remus, they are safe.

She holds the note against her chest, and closes her eyes. She focuses on an image of Remus in her mind, and silently wills all her strength and love to fly across the miles and find him.

After reading the note several more times, she places it gently on her desk alongside the five notes that already sit there, and takes a seat to compose her own note in reply. Right now these small messages are her only way to lift him up—her only way to help him. But she is determined to make the most of it. She won't lose him again.

* * *

Tonks holds regular office hours in her small sitting room, when the villagers are welcome to come issue complaints or raise concerns. She usually has one or two visitors a day, and is mildly surprised when, for the third time that day, she hears a knock on her door. She is even more surprised when she opens the door to find Severus waiting there for her.

"What do you want?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "No hello? Not even a _wotcher_?"

"I'll say it again. What do you want?"

"I need your help."

"Can't anyone else help you?"

"No. Only you. May I?" He gestures through the open door. "These are your office hours, are they not?"

She sighs. "Fine. Come in."

He swoops past her, and she closes the door behind him. "All right. What is it?"

He turns to her, and clasps his hands behind his back. "I am concerned about Draco," he says, "and I need you to assist me."

She raises her eyebrows. "Draco?"

"Yes. Draco Malfoy. You do remember your cousin, don't you?" He frowns reprovingly.

She certainly remembers Draco, but she rarely thinks about the fact that he is her cousin. In fact, she's never met the boy. She primarily thinks of him as the bully who broke Harry's nose on the train. "I know who he his," she says. "What I don't know, is why are you concerned about him, and why do you think I can help?"

He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "Draco has been…led astray by his Aunt Bellatrix since his father was imprisoned. He's been stirring up trouble among the members of his House."

Tonks remembers Arthur telling them all of Harry's belief that Draco had joined the Death Eaters, but none of them had given it much credence. Perhaps Harry had been right all along. "By _led astray,_ do you mean that Bellatrix brought him into the Death Eaters?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Tonks raises her eyebrows. As a Death Eater himself, surely Severus would have known of Draco's involvement months ago, yet he said nothing to back up Harry's claims. "Why haven't you told the Order?"

"I told the Headmaster. He agreed that we should keep it a secret for the time being, lest we put the boy in more danger. Draco is still a relative innocent. He joined the Death Eaters under duress, and out of fear. Even now he continues to operate under that same fear. The Headmaster agrees with me that if we can get through to Draco, we can convince him to leave the service of the Dark Lord and go into hiding."

For the first time since she's known him, Severus actually seems genuinely to care about the well-being of someone other than himself. That is a surprise in and of itself, but the object of his concern is even more surprising. Why in the world is he so fond of her wayward cousin?

"What kind of trouble has he been causing?" she asks.

"He's stirring up the other Slytherins against the Ministry. And, from what I can discern, he's been promising them the Dark Lord's protection and favor if they commit themselves to his side. As you can imagine, it's very disturbing to have such things going on in my own House without being in the position to stop them."

"Because if you did try to stop Draco, he could report you to Bellatrix—or even to Voldemort."

Severus winces at the name. "Precisely."

"So why do you think I can help?"

Severus takes a deep breath, and launches into what is obviously a well-rehearsed speech about Draco needing better role-models to help him overcome his indoctrination into the ideals of a pure-blooded society. He mentions that Draco's blind belief in those ideals help him rationalize his obedience to the Dark Lord, when in fact, his only true motivation is fear for himself and his family. Severus seems certain that if Draco could be brought to see the fundamental flaws in the concept of a pure-blooded society, than he could be convinced to disavow the Dark Lord altogether.

"If you could talk to him," he says, "try to befriend him, you might be able to get through to him in ways that I never have. You are young enough to relate to a boy of his generation. If you could seek him out, and talk to him, I would greatly appreciate it."

In the past, all of Severus's interactions with her have had ulterior motives, and she can't help but wonder what those motives might be in this instance. Surely he isn't asking this of her just because he _cares _for the boy—is he?

"I understand if you are skeptical, after the way I behaved last time we met. I have not forgotten your decision to no longer consider me a friend. However, I am not coming to you as a friend, but as a colleague. It would be disastrous to the Order and to our society as a whole if Draco's influence were to lead to a whole new generation of Death Eaters joining ranks as soon as they leave Hogwarts."

Severus is being much nicer than usual, and is trying far too hard to win her over. He must be truly desperate for help.

"Okay," she says, interrupting his ongoing speech. "I'll do it."

"You'll do it?"

"I don't think it will do any good, but I'll give it a go."

"Thank you." His eyes are still wide with surprise.

"You didn't think I'd say yes, did you?"

"I confess…my expectations were low."

She smiles. "Then I'm glad to defy your expectations. Anything for the Order, right?"

He nods. "Of course."

After he is gone, Tonks wonders how in the world she's going to approach Draco. Will a sudden interest in getting to know her cousin be a good enough excuse, or will he see right through it? And why the hell did she agree to work with Severus again?

She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. Half of the time Severus drives her batty, but the other half of the time is split between genuinely liking him, and feeling pity for him. In this case, the pity seems to have won out. She only hopes it won't cause any more problems with him—dealing with Severus's deficient social skills is one stress that she would be glad to do without.

* * *

Remus's most recent note is not as optimistic as the others. He tells her that though the pack is smaller than it was before the raid, its members are more tightly controlled than ever, and he is having trouble getting through to them. Even worse, Greyback and Ulric have resumed their abuse of the adolescents in the pack. Though the note is short, Remus's frustration is palpable, and it hurts her to know that there is nothing she can do about it.

To take her mind off of the troubling news, she decides to follow up on Severus's request. She manages to track down Draco after his classes end for the day, and approaches him in an empty corridor on the seventh floor.

The conversation goes as well as she expected—which isn't very well at all. He looks edgy and anxious from the moment she steps out of the shadows. She asks if he knows who she is.

He shuffles his feet. "You're that Auror that's always skulking about the grounds."

She nods. "The name is Tonks. And you're Draco Malfoy."

He looks up sharply. "What's it to you?"

"I'm your cousin. Our mothers are sisters. Did you know that?"

He raises his eyebrows. "You mean my Aunt that ran off with that mudblood?"

Things don't improve much from there. Draco continues to be evasive and insulting, and at one point Tonks resorts to tossing out the lie that she's always wanted a brother, and wishes they could spend time together—get to know each other. Nothing works.

She sighs in exasperation as he hustles away with the excuse that he needs to go to Quidditch practice. It's time to break the bad news to Severus.

He lets her into his office, and she tells him just how poorly her conversation with Draco went.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I tried. He just wasn't buying it."

Severus paces away from her, and then turns sharply to meet her gaze. "Could you try again—in a week or two? Perhaps another attempt will convince him that your intentions to get to know him are sincere."

She sinks to one of the hard stools in front of his desk. "He seems dead set on hating me, but I'll give it a try."

"Thank you," he says, and he actually looks like he means it.

She decides to ask him one of the questions that has been on her mind ever since he made his request. "Why is Draco so important to you? Why don't you just report him to the Ministry? They'd be glad to lock him up for you."

"No!" He steps toward her, tightening his fists, his face livid. "That is not an option—_ever_." He takes a deep breath to regain his composure, and then continues. "Draco has always been one of my favorite students. He is bright, charismatic, and ambitious. He's the kind of boy I admired and wished to emulate when I was his age. I am very fond of him, and want to give him every possible opportunity to turn back from the dark path that he is walking. The Headmaster agrees with me."

Tonks sighs, and nods. She's not sure if Severus is being entirely honest with her, but if this really means that much to him, then she will gladly help.

She rises to leave.

"I have information that I think you would be very interested to hear," he says just as she opens her mouth to say goodbye.

"What?"

He takes another step toward her. "Over the past month, Fenrir Greyback has become my Master's favorite whipping boy. It seems that the werewolf battalion which the Dark Lord had such high hopes for is completely falling to pieces. Greyback claims not to know why, but I give credit where credit is due. It seems that your paramour is doing a far better job as spy and saboteur than I ever believed him capable of."

After stewing over Remus's pessimistic note all morning, this news floods her with relief. Things are better than he said. He was only venting. He's going to succeed. She knows he is.

She smiles. "Thank you, Severus. It means a lot to me that you would share that with me."

He inclines his head toward her. "Tit for tat. You did a favor me, so I did one for you."

Such a typical Severus answer. Can't he just admit that he's trying to make up for what he did to her? She nods, and turns for the door again. Just as she reaches it, she pauses. If someone were in the position to give Remus moral support and help him through his struggles, she would hope that they did. Yet here she is, selfishly denying the same kind of support to Severus. She sighs, and looks back at him.

"I really am very grateful," she says. Before he can reply, she adds, "If you ever…if you ever need to get out of the castle to unwind, or relax, you're welcome to stop by the Hog's Head and say hello. We could have a drink together, or something."

It's the least she can do, really, after all the help he's given her over the past year. Severus is certainly looking very tense and stressed lately, and since she is the only one in a position to help him, it seems that the job is up to her. If being nice to Severus is another of the sacrifices that she has to make, then she'll do it.

He quirks an eyebrow. "I thought that our friendship was over?"

"It is. But colleagues in stressful jobs often decide to spend time together socially, to help each other relax. In any case—the only thing that's ever caused problems for us is talking about my personal life. So, if we both promise to avoid that touchy subject, there's no reason we can't enjoy a drink together now and then. Consider it a standing invitation."

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "I am rarely in the mood for a drink, but if I am, I shall certainly take your offer under advisement."

"And you'll promise to avoid any further discussion of my personal life?"

"Naturally."

"All right, then. I'll see you around."

He nods in farewell, and she leaves him alone in his office.

* * *

Severus's first visit to the Hog's Head comes a few days later. She is sitting at the bar, slowly working her way through a pint while writing some over-due reports.

He sits beside her and orders his own pint. They exchange a perfunctory greeting, and finish their beer in silence. After ten minutes he stands, bids her goodbye, and leaves. It is only after she returns to her rooms that she finds the note he slipped into her stack of reports.

It says that while a chance meeting in a pub would raise no suspicions, a lengthy conversation _would._ He requests that next time they encounter each other, she find a way to arrange time with him in her sitting room upstairs.

When, less than a week later, she returns from her shift to find Severus once more sitting at the bar, she orders a pint and tells Aberforth that she is taking it upstairs to drink. A few minutes later, Severus joins her. Their conversation centers mostly on the ongoing program of screening letters and packages into Hogwarts, which lies directly under her purview. His questioning regarding the methodology and effectiveness of the program is fairly intense.

Finally, she asks. "Why are you so concerned? Are you afraid Draco's trying to slip something past the screening?"

The corners of his mouth turn down. "I do remain worried about Draco, yes. Have you had a chance to talk to him again?"

"Not yet."

"Could you make contacting him a higher priority in your schedule?"

She raises an eyebrow. He is _really_ worried about Draco, isn't he? What in the world is the boy up to? And does Severus know more than he is letting on?

"I'll do it," she replies.

A few minutes later, he leaves.

She tries to talk to Draco several more times, but every time he sees her coming, he walks the way as quickly as he can.

Yes—that boy is definitely up to something.

* * *

It is becoming increasingly hard to speak with Dumbledore, so when, near the end of the month, Tonks sees Professor Sinistra exiting the Headmaster's office, she decides to seize the opportunity.

"So good to see you again, Nymphadora," Dumbledore says after inviting her in. "You are looking much more yourself, lately."

"Thank you, sir."

She quickly moves to the purpose of her visit. She tells him of Severus's request for help with Draco, and of her continuing failure to make a difference.

"Severus did not tell me that he had asked you for help in this matter," he says, wearing a small frown.

"He didn't? I thought you were the one person he told everything to," she pauses, "I've tried to be Severus's friend over the past year and half, but even after all this time I still have trouble feeling like I can really trust him. He keeps so many things to himself—like this business with Draco, and the plot against me…"

"Plot against you?" A flash of surprise crosses his face. But surely Severus told him about that, didn't he?

"Yes. The plot to place me under the Imperius Curse as soon as I regain my morphing abilities."

"Ah, yes," he says. "Forgive me—there seem to be so very many plots these days."

She has the sudden impression that Dumbledore isn't being entirely honest with her. That Severus never really told him about the plot. Was there ever even a plot at all? Or was it some elaborate lie he concocted for purposes of his own?

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to clear her head. Now she's just being paranoid. Of course Dumbledore knew about the plot.

She looks back up to speak. "Yes, Sir. The point I'm trying to get to is: can we really trust him? How certain of his loyalty are you?"

All traces of a smile are gone from his face. "Nymphadora—this is a very serious matter, and I understand your worries. Severus, by nature, is a secretive and private person. He keeps things to himself that anyone else would share, purely out of ingrained habit. But do not mistake his need for privacy for untrustworthiness. I am as sure of his loyalty as I am of my own name. I trust him completely."

His words ring with a tone of finality, and she knows not to press the matter further. Clearly he knows things about Severus that the rest of the Order is not privy to, and she has to accept that.

"Should I keep helping him with Draco?" she asks.

"It would be a very good thing for you to get to know your young cousin, but ultimately Draco is Severus's responsibility. If he will not listen to you, feel free to stop trying. Draco is Severus's job, first and foremost—not yours."

So had Severus merely been trying to dump an unpleasant task on her that he didn't want for himself? With every question she answers about him, two new ones inevitably arise.

"Yes, sir." She nods. "Thank you for your time."

"You are very welcome, my dear. And Nymphadora—?"

"Yes?"

"I'm given to understand that you have resumed contact with Remus. How is he?"

She smiles, and so does Dumbledore. "He's well. A little discouraged, but he seems to have accomplished a great deal."

"Good. I was so very sorry when you parted ways; you have no idea how happy it makes me to see the two of your reconciling."

Her heart swells with warmth. "Thank you. I am very, very happy about it as well."

There may still be a war raging, and she may still be dealing with dementors and fearful villagers and Severus's strange ways, but the stack of Remus's notes on her desk reminds her that all of it is worth it.

Remus gives her a reason to keep fighting. And, hopefully, she does the same for him.

* * *

_March_

She bursts into Severus's office without knocking. Her chest is heaving with anger and frustration.

Severus looks up at her in surprise, and frowns. "Is the courtesy of knocking beyond you?"

She has no time for this pointless sparring today. "Was Draco responsible for this?" she demands.

"Responsible for what?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Severus. You know what I'm talking about."

He frowns, and rises to his feet. "I assume you are referring to the accidental poisoning of Mr. Weasley?"

"The poisoning, yes. The accident bit is still up for debate. You knew he was up to something, didn't you? That's why you asked me all those questions about the Owl-Post screening. Draco did have something to do with this, didn't he?"

Severus's face is drawn tight. "I don't know."

She scowls. "Which means yes, he did. And he probably also had something to do with the curse that injured Katie Bell?"

Severus frowns, but remains silent. This is answer enough for Tonks.

She brandishes her finger at Severus. "You might feel like coddling him, but when he starts hurting other students, that's the end." She turns to leave.

Severus darts forward and grabs her arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to arrest him!"

"No! You're not!" He tightens his grip.

"Let go of me!"

"Nymphadora!" A powerful voice rings out.

She turns to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"I'm taking Draco into custody. He had something to do with the poisoning, and I'm going to find out what." She pulls her arm free of Severus's grip.

"No, Nymphadora," says Dumbledore. "You will leave the problem of Draco up to Severus and me."

"What?! How can you say that after what happened to Ron? He attempted murder!"

"I am perfectly aware of the situation. You need to trust us, Nymphadora. We cannot tell you what you wish to know, but there are some very important reasons why Draco must remain free."

"Please, Tonks," says Severus quietly.

Her anger is subsiding. She can't stand all this secrecy, but what can she do about it? She nods. "All right. I'll leave Draco to you. But you have to promise that you won't let him hurt anyone else."

"I assure you, we will do all in our power to prevent another such incident," says Dumbledore. "Won't we, Severus?" His tone is hard, and so are his eyes.

Severus nods.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to speak with Severus _in private_." This is the closest she's ever seen Dumbledore to being angry, and it is a very intimidating sight.

"Yes, sir," she says, backing meekly out of the office.

It is time to go to the Burrow. It's up to her to tell Molly and Arthur what has happened. They'll need a friend at a time like this.

* * *

This is Severus's second visit to share drinks in her rooms since Ron's poisoning. During his first visit, the conversation was stilted and awkward, but today it is light and easy-going. It's almost like he's trying to make it up to her for trying to use her to take care of his Draco problem. At times like these she almost feels like they really can be friends, and has to remind herself of all the awful things he's done to prove otherwise. They'll have to settle for the status of "amiable colleagues."

When they finish their drinks and wrap up their conversation about some of the more amusing items that she has found while screening parcels being sent to students, she is almost disappointed to see him go. His company has been a good distraction from the fact that it's been nearly three weeks since she last heard from Remus, and tomorrow is the full moon.

After Severus leaves she walks to the window and stares out at the darkening sky. She reaches up to run her fingers along the alphabet block necklace that she has been wearing more and more often lately. She wonders if Remus has a sound roof over his head tonight, or if he's sleeping on a park bench, or a down an alley. Will she see him again soon? Will he make it through another transformation safe and sound?

She knows sleep won't come easily tonight—and it will be even harder. She can never rest easy when Remus is in danger. She longs for a dose of sleeping draught, but she threw it all away weeks ago, to avoid the temptation.

All she can do is wait.

* * *

It is noon the day after the full moon when she gets a letter from Arthur. He tells her that there is talk at the Ministry of a little boy being savaged in a werewolf attack. The Werewolf Capture Unit is mobilizing for a big hunt. He tells her to find out if Moody or Dumbledore have heard from Remus yet.

She quickly dashes off a note to Moody, and then rushes up to the castle. She barely slept last night. There was something ominous in the air. She could almost taste the dark portents. Dear God—please let Remus be okay.

Dumbledore is not in his office. She runs into Harry in the halls, and brushes aside his inquiries. She knows she shouldn't do that. She knows she should treat him like an adult—like she wanted to be treated at his age. But all that matters to her right now is finding out if Remus is all right, and getting him to safety before the Werewolf Capture Unit hits the warpath.

She tries Severus's office as well, but he is also missing. Isn't there anyone who can help her?

Finally, just as she leaves the castle, an owl flutters up to her. It bears a message from Moody. He's found Remus.

* * *

More than two dozen dirty and disheveled werewolves are crowded in a dark abandoned basement on the outskirts of London. They huddle nervously behind Remus and two other rough-looking men—the obvious leaders of their group. It's taken nearly a half an hour for Remus to convince them that the rescue party—Moody, Arthur, Molly, Dedalus and Tonks—are friends, not foes.

The discussion is now moving on to what to do next, but Tonks's mind isn't on it. All she can think about is Remus. He is gaunt and unshaven. His cheeks look hollow, and even in the dim light she can tell that the dark patches on his shabby clothes are dried blood. But whose blood is it? Remus's, or someone else's? She's not sure which answer will be worse.

Despite his shaken appearance, Remus is in top form, calming and reassuring the rest of his pack that all will be well, and guiding them all toward a decision about what they want to do now that they've broken ranks with Greyback permanently.

It's still not entirely clear what happened today. All that Tonks has managed to discern is that in the early morning, once the pack realized how badly Ulric had injured his young victim, the festering and pent-up anger toward Greyback and Ulric finally erupted into action. There was some sort of fight, with the most hardened and soulless werewolves remaining true to Greyback, and the others—including all of the children—following Remus and these other men. It sounds as if there were some fatalities, but Tonks has no idea how many, or what part Remus may have played.

She longs to hold him—to wash his wounds—to comfort him. He must need her after all this, but as he talks and plans and organizes, he deliberately avoids looking at her. She tries to believe that it is because if he did, he would succumb to the temptation to collapse into her arms. She tries to ignore her fears that he no longer wants her, that somehow, something has turned him against her.

It is after sunset before the discussions and reassurances end, and the final decisions are made. All of the children and the older woman that has served as their caretaker will be staying at the Burrow until they can be reunited with their families, or placed with willing foster families. Most of the adults are still eager to fend for themselves, but agree to accept assistance from the Order to relocate to a city far from Greyback's usual territory. And six of them—all older teenagers or younger adults—have decided to try their hands at finding legitimate employment from among the Order's wide network of contacts. Until they do, they will be staying at the Hog's Head. Tonks hopes that Aberforth won't mind.

Moody and Dedalus help her create Portkeys to transport all the werewolves to their various destinations. As they work, her eyes keep darting to Remus. The younger children are huddled around him and their surrogate mother, clinging to them both in fear and exhaustion. Soon enough it becomes clear that she will have no time to reunite with Remus tonight. He will be going with the children to the Burrow, and she will be taking her new guests to the Hog's Head.

She watches him intently as he gathers the children around the Portkey, wishing with all her heart that she could be going with him. But he doesn't look at her. Not once.

She tries not to dwell on it as she settles the young people into their rooms. As they exclaim in delight over the real beds and running water, she fights to hold back tears. Damn the Ministry. Damn them all for what they've done to these people—for what they've done to Remus.

She can't sleep, and before dawn she Apparates to the Burrow. A sleepy Bill opens the door and tells her that everyone is settling in nicely. But when she asks after Remus, Bill tells her that he is already gone.

"Gone!? Gone where?"

"He wants to help the rest of the pack get back on their feet. He said it would only be a few days, and then he'll come back."

She nods, dumb with shock. She licks her lips and manages to ask, "Did he leave any messages?"

Bill shakes his head. "I'm sorry Tonks. He didn't leave anything."

She can feel herself wilting. This isn't what was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be over. He was supposed to come home. He was supposed to come home to _her_.

"I'd…I'd better be getting back now. Thanks Bill. Send me word if you hear anything." She stumbles out the door, stubbing her toe on the frame.

When she gets back to her bedroom in Hogsmeade, she forces herself to sit quietly on her bed, inhaling and exhaling, slowly and deeply. She can't let herself fall apart again. She doesn't even really know what's happening yet. She'll hold on. She has to hold on.

* * *

_April_

It is early April before he finally returns to the Burrow to help Molly place the last two unclaimed children with foster parents.

As soon as she gets off of her shift that night Tonks goes to see him. She is terrified of what he might say—of how he might have changed. What could have happened since Christmas to pull him away from her? What went wrong?

He is upstairs tucking the two little boys in for the night when she arrives, and she waits as patiently as she can in the living room. When he sees her, he lingers in the doorway uncomfortably for a few moments before smiling and taking a seat across from her. Molly and Arthur offer a few quick pleasantries, and then make a hasty exit.

Tonks bites her bottom lip, and coughs lightly to clear her throat. "Why…why did you stop writing me?"

"I…had no positive news to share. I didn't want to depress you."

His answer is pathetically weak, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm not buying that for an instant."

He looks at the ground.

"Tell me the truth, Remus."

He shakes his head. "I don't know what the truth is anymore, Tonks."

"Try. Please."

He tells her that it all started his second to last full-moon with the pack. Moody hadn't been able to get him his potion until the day of the moon, so he didn't go through the full treatment. He tells her how part of his mind was human, but the wolf was in control. For the first time in his life he could remember what it felt like to be the wolf—to feel those ravenous, murderous desires. As he describes the experience, she can see how deeply it shook him, to finally come face to face with the demon inside.

And then he comes to what happened after the final full-moon—when the Montgomery boy was killed. He talks of the arguments that soon escalated to battle. He tells her of the shouting—the screaming—the scent of blood all around him.

His voice shakes with guilt as he tells her how Greyback slaughtered two of his friends before he could get to them. And then, he pauses. His eyes are glistening, his hands trembling. "In the end I proved to be just as much an animal—just as much a monster—as Greyback himself."

"No." She shakes her head. "You're nothing like Greyback. Nothing."

"I killed a man," he says, his voice quiet and pained. "I murdered him with my own hands."

Tonks catches her breath. Everything is becoming clear. She understands now why he avoided the Burrow. Why he avoided _her_.

"It wasn't murder," she says. "It was war. He was the enemy."

"It was murder!" He clenches his fists on his knees. "The Order has never sought to kill its enemies. Only to capture. We're supposed to be about justice!—Not about revenge."

Revenge? Who exactly did he kill?

"Tell me what happened."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes! It does. Tell me what happened."

It was Ulric—the monster who had been molesting the children along with Greyback. Remus describes how the animal grabbed the youngest girl in the pack, and threatened to kill her if the others didn't let him go. Remus followed him, and when he got too close, Ulric snapped the girl's neck, and threw her body at Remus to slow him down.

Tonks feels sickened and horrified as Remus tells the story in a low, hollow voice. He's suffering. His pain is almost too much for one man to bear—but will he let her share it? Will he let her help him?

He describes the primal anger that surged through him, driving him to tackle Ulric to the ground, and finally, to smash his skull with a rock. "I was a beast. I was an animal. Inside, that's all I really am. I'm a monster."

"You are not a monster," she says, moving to his side. "You are not an animal. And what you did wasn't murder. It was justice."

He shakes his head, pulling away from her touch. "No. It was beyond justice. To stop a monster, I allowed myself to become a monster."

He rises, and paces to the other end of the room. She follows, but doesn't touch him.

"Those children upstairs don't see you as a monster," she says quietly. "They trust you. They love you. You didn't become an animal—you killed the man who killed a child that you loved. Any father would have done the same." She lays her hand on his arm, but once again he pulls away from her.

"I'm not a father. I don't deserve to be father."

She knows as he says it that that is not the only thing he thinks he doesn't deserve. She remembers all too well what it was like to feel like an abject failure—and her heart aches for him.

"Please, Remus. Let me help you. Please?" She reaches for him again, and once again he turns away from her.

"Don't waste your time on me. You deserve so much more than I can give you."

"No, Remus. Don't say that…"

"I can't do this right now," he says, interrupting her. "I can't think. I can't…" He puts his face in his hands. "God, Tonks. I'm so sorry for putting you through this. I just need some time to myself, right now. I'm sorry."

She fights off the tremor in her voice. "I understand. It's okay. I'll let you have your time. But if you want to talk…If you need someone…I'm right here."

He meets her eyes for the first time all night. "Thank you."

She nods, and leaves him for the night. But this isn't over. This time, she's not giving up on him. Somehow, she'll help him through this. She has to.

* * *

A few nights later she is alone in her sitting room. She has spent the day warding off dementors, and her dark worries have gotten the best of her. She sits, crying over the stack of notes from Remus, when she hears a knock at the door. She hastily wipes away her tears, hoping that it will be him.

Instead, it's Severus. As usual he carries a pint of beer with him. He sets it down on her coffee table and studies her face as he sits.

"I know I'm not supposed to talk about your personal life," he begins, "and if you tell me not to, I won't. But…I can't help but notice that you are upset."

She smiles, and sniffs loudly. "It's okay." She shakes her head. "It's Remus. Things aren't good for him right now, and I'm worried."

She tells Severus a few of the things that Remus has gone through, and how depressed and upset he is because of them.

Severus looks thoughtful, and when she tells him of Remus killing Ulric in the battle, he nods. "I understand. I've been in the same position myself, and it is not an easy burden to bear," he says softly.

As usual, Tonks has no idea how to respond to Severus's strangely bold revelation, so she says nothing at all. What has she done to make him trust her with these confidences? She doesn't understand.

"Don't worry," Severus adds. "Lupin is resilient—like most of his kind. He'll pull through all right. I doubt it will take him long at all."

"How do you know?"

He gives her a pointed look. "Because he has _you_ to help him."

She thinks that may be the nicest thing he's ever said to her. "Thank you."

He nods, and rises to his feet. "Keep the pint. You need it more than I do."

She smiles up at him as he bids her goodnight. If only he could be like this all the time.

With a deep sigh, she picks up the pint, and takes a drink.

* * *

After their next Order meeting, Remus actually seeks her out, and pulls her aside for a private talk.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she wonders if he noticed that she is wearing his necklace again. And if he has, did it cheer him up, or only stir up regrets over the past? She doesn't know the right things to do or say with him anymore.

"I just wanted to apologize for last week. I shouldn't have unloaded all of my burdens onto your shoulders," he says. "It was unfair of me."

"It's no burden," she replies. "It's important that you talk these things over. It'll help you cope with then better. Trust me—I know."

He smiles weakly at her. "You always were willing to help bear my burdens, weren't you?"

"I still am."

His eyes flicker up to hers, and then back down to his feet. "Tonks…There's something important that I need to say to you."

"Yes?" This time, her heart freezes in anticipation.

"I'm not…It's important that you know that I'm…I'm not ready to dive right back into any kind of relationship like the one we used to have."

She swallows hard, and nods. "I understand," she says, though she really doesn't.

"But don't think that means I'm trying to avoid you," he says, "because I'm not. I still want to be…friends."

Friends. She should be happy with friends. It's not what she wants, but it's more than she had for half of last year. In spite of that, she still feels like he hit her with a brick.

"Yes—friends," she says with a quick gasp. "That…that would be great." She smiles.

He smiles gratefully back at her. "Good. Wonderful. Thank you. It means a lot for me to hear you say that. I just…I still miss you, and I want you in my life. But I'm not ready…I'm not looking for…anything more than friends right now."

"Then that's what you'll have in me."

"Thank you so much." His smile is starting to look slightly desperate.

She clears her throat as her mind darts around, searching for a safe subject. "How is your mother?" she finally asks.

Immediately his smile fades, and he looks at the ground. "She's well, I think."

"You think?"

He shuffles his feet.

"You haven't been to see her yet, have you?" Why is he avoiding all the people who love him best?

"Not yet." He studies a crack in the wall intently.

"You need to see her, Remus. She misses you. She's worried sick about you."

"I know. I know. I'll see her soon. As soon as I'm ready." He continues to avoid meeting her eyes. "I'd best be going now. Goodnight, Tonks."

"Goodnight, Remus."

He may claim to want her as a friend, but he leaves her feeling more lonely than she did before. She reminds herself to be patient. What he really needs right now is patience. Things will get better eventually. They have to.

* * *

Most of the young werewolves have found jobs and homes elsewhere, but two girls in their early twenties, Mandy and Jill, are staying on at the Hog's Head on a semi-permanent basis as a cook and a barmaid. And though Mandy's cooking experience is very limited, there is already a marked improvement in the pub's cuisine.

One evening both girls are behind the bar cleaning glasses as Tonks sits nursing a pint. The two are chatting rapidly in low tones, and it takes her a few minutes to realize that they are talking about Remus.

"He's not gay!" Jill insists. "Just because he's gentle and kind doesn't mean he's gay."

"Then why didn't he ever look twice at one of us—or one of the other girls in the pack? He treated us no differently than the boys!" replies Mandy.

"That's just my point. He didn't go after the boys, either."

"So what is he? A priest?"

"Maybe. But he's too handsome to be a priest. You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think he suffers from a tragic lost love."

"A tragic lost love?" Mandy's voice drips with skepticism.

"Yes! He was madly in love with someone, and she was tragically killed. Or forced into an arranged marriage with someone else. Or maybe she was already married. In any case, he was still so in love with her that he couldn't even _think_ about another woman, let alone go after one."

"You've read too many romances."

"And _you_ think that any bloke who won't sleep with you is gay."

Mandy giggles.

Tonks can't help but smile to herself as she finishes her pint. She wonders how disappointed Jill would be if she knew the truth: he left his love because he thought he wasn't good enough for her.

And she is still trying to find a way to convince him otherwise.

* * *

Charlie is in England for the weekend, to report on the Order supporters he works with in Europe. Molly is throwing a large dinner party for him, and most of the Order attends.

Tonks smiles at Molly's transparency when she directs her to take the empty seat next to Remus.

It is the most carefree night that the Order has shared together in ages, and Tonks is happy to see Remus tentatively joining in the jokes and laughter. Maybe being "friends" with Remus won't be so hard after all—at least, until he's ready for more.

Eventually, the guests begin to leave, one by one. When Remus offers to help with the washing up, Molly bodily forces him into the living room to sit down with Bill, Charlie, Fleur and Tonks as they swap stories. Bill starts them off with the nerve-wracking tale of the most dangerous tomb he ever invaded. Next, Charlie regales them with a story about breaking up a fight between two male Norwegian Ridgebacks. When he is done, Tonks decides to lighten the mood with the story of her recent encounter with Hagrid's "little brother." To her delight, Remus follows her by offering up a mad-cap tale of a fairy-catching hunt with his father one Christmas holiday.

It is a story that she has never heard before, and she is captivated by his telling of it. His eyes are shining with warmth and good humor, and she finds herself studying his mouth as he talks. Throughout the story he wears an easy, relaxed smile. He is almost himself again. Maybe, in the end, all he needs is time.

When she is ready to leave, Remus sees her out, and they linger outside the door to enjoy the warm spring night.

"I really enjoyed tonight," she says.

"So did I. It was the best evening that I've had in a very long time."

She smiles up at him, and he smiles back.

"You should try going out with someone like Charlie," he says.

Her jaw drops. "What?"

"It doesn't have to be Charlie, specifically. Just—you've always gone out with older men. Perhaps you ought to try going out with someone closer to your own age."

Where the hell is this coming from?

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't care about our age difference?" she says. "And don't even _think_ about bringing up that werewolf life-expectancy rubbish. If you're really still convinced that you've only got another year or two left, then you're a bleeding idiot. I saw how the _average_ werewolf lives, and it explained a hell of a lot. It's not the stress of transformation that's killing them—it's the exposure, and the malnutrition, and the violence. Of course the average life-span for werewolves is going to be shorter, if that's how most of them live! But you don't live like that. So stop it with this age crap, okay!"

His eyes are wide, and he is clearly taken aback by the violence of her response. "All right, then," he says. "I won't bring it up again."

"Good."

"And you can go out with whomever you like. Or no one at all, if that's what you want. I shouldn't have butted in. I'm sorry."

She wants to shout that it's _him_ she wants to be going out with, but she bites her tongue. "Sorry for yelling like that," she says. "I think I've had a bit too much to drink."

"I think we both have."

She nods. It must be the drink—she can't think of any other reason why they would be having this conversation.

"Goodnight, Tonks."

"Goodnight, Remus."

_Author's Note: _The final chapter will be coming Very Soon. If you leave a review Remus might decided to be more than friends with _you_. ;-)


	6. Chapter 6: This Time Will Pass

**Disclaimer: **Small portions of the dialog in this chapter were written by the wonderful J.K.Rowling. I do not own her words, nor do I profit from them.

_Author's Notes: _Wow! I finished it! The wonderful MrsTater has given me a great deal of help on this story, and deserves heaps of praise. I'm so happy to get this posted before DH! If anyone is interested in a more detailed discussion on my thoughts about Snape, you can read my essay: "The Unbreakable Vow, Pride, Trust, Cowardice, and the Self-Interested Snape" at http://jncar. At the end of that essay is a list of links to most of the other fabulous essays that I read while developing the character of Snape for this story. Thanks to all my readers for their support and encouragement. Y'all rock! **ETA:** This is the new version, revised post-DH.

Chapter 6: This Time Will Pass

_May _

Remus is still living at the Burrow, and Tonks arranges her schedule to stop by as often as possible. He still hasn't talked any more about what happened in the pack, and, from what she can tell, he still hasn't visited his mother. She wants to chide him to get himself back on track, be she knows she should be patient and let him have the time he needs to mourn and heal on his own.

There are times when his old wit and humor break out of his new reticence, and he seems almost normal. But underneath it all there is still a new tension—a new sorrow.

She almost feels like they are reliving the early months of their friendship all over again—when she still suspected him of aiding and abetting a fugitive, and he still thought she was looking for an excuse to arrest him. There are so many moments when she can't help but think things would be easier if he would only let her take him in her arms and never let go. And there are times when she is sure he feels the same. But they hold back. The tension between them feels the same as it did then, but there is one major difference: back then, the source of tension wasn't real. It was all in their heads. But this time, it is far too real.

Things will never be completely the same again. But Tonks has confidence that something new can take the place of what they used to have—and that this new relationship can be even stronger than the old, after being refined and tempered by the fire of what they've been through.

So she forces herself to take one small step at a time. Things are so fragile that she doesn't dare rush them.

One evening in early may, Tonks and Remus find themselves alone together for the first time in weeks.

They talk lightly of unimportant nothings for a time, until they are both comfortable and relaxed. Then, Tonks decides to try something deeper.

She asks him how he is sleeping—are his dreams bothering him?

He admits that they have been. That the events of that battle in March still haunt him.

"Remus—you really need to talk to someone about what you've been through. You need to get it out of your system. I know it will help."

He only nods.

She sighs. "You don't have to talk to _me_ if that's uncomfortable for you. Maybe you could talk to Arthur, or Alastor. But you need to talk to _someone_. Please. I can't stand to see you hurting like this."

He finally meet her gaze, and eyes are shining. He nods. "You're right. I should talk to someone. I will. I promise."

"Thank you. I'll hold you to it."

When she leaves for the night, her heart is light. She feels as if they are finally moving forward.

* * *

After a brief, sharp knock, Severus storms into her sitting room.

He neglected to bring a drink, and instead of sitting he begins pacing violently back and forth across the small room.

Clearly, he's having a bad day. She raises her eyebrows, and asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's that damn Potter!" he snarls. He launches into a vicious attack on Harry's character, and it is only after a few minutes that the crux of the matter finally comes to light: Severus claims that Harry attacked Draco with potentially lethal dark magic.

She is stunned. "But…If Harry said he didn't know what the spell was for, I'm inclined to believe him. I know those two have been at each other's throats for ages, but Harry would never intentionally do that sort of harm to Draco. I'm sure of it. He's a good boy."

Severus glares at her. "There you go, simplifying things again to fit into your tidy little world. It's time you realized that things are never as simple as you want them to be. There is _no_ idyllic world of black and white, wrong and right. It's time you grew up, and stopped thinking that there _is_!" He begins pacing again, complaining loudly that detention is the only punishment he's allowed to mete, when imprisonment would be more appropriate.

Tonks sits in stunned silence. His words have chilled her to the bone, and for the first time since they've known each other she thinks that she finally understands why they've had so much trouble maintaining a friendship. They really do live in different—irreconcilable—worlds.

Despite Severus's assertion to the contrary, she firmly believes that there is such a thing as good and evil. There really is a black and white at the heart of every important issue. But in Severus's world there is nothing of the sort. He doesn't see in black and white—only in infinitely varied shades of grey.

As she watches him pace and fume, she feels more sorry for him than she ever has before. Now that she sees his world, she knows that she would never, _ever_, want to live in it.

* * *

When Moody asks Tonks to spend one of her rare days off on an Order mission, she is irritated. That is, until Moody tells her that Remus will be her partner. She will gladly sacrifice her day off to spend it with Remus.

The mission is alarmingly simple: they are to meet an Order informant in a quaint river-side village, exchange information, and then go their separate ways. The only catch is that the informant has given them a five hour time-window in which he might arrive.

Tonks can't help but wonder if Moody arranged this assignment on purpose to give her and Remus time alone together. The old warrior may pretend to be hard as a rock, but she suspects that there is a warm heart beneath the gruff exterior.

The day is warm and lovely, and the village is as peaceful and beautiful as anywhere in all England. With the sun on their faces, they slowly wander the village, waiting for their informant to appear.

It doesn't take long for the beautiful day to warm their hearts and convince them to lower their guards. Soon they are chatting and laughing like old times. She buys them sandwiches and coffee in a small café very reminiscent of the one they used to visit together in London, after their long afternoons in the library.

After they eat, they stroll along the river. He plucks a delicate pink flower for her, and tucks it behind her ear.

As they walk, she finally confesses to him how hard she struggled for the first few months after he left, and she admits to him the crushing guilt she felt over Emmeline's death. He tells her that he feels that same way about the people he cared about whom he lost in the fight with Greyback. He tells her that he has been to talking it over with Arthur, and that she was right—it is helping.

As they wander up and down the village streets, they walk so close that they are almost touching, and their hands brush lightly against each other—though she doesn't quite dare clasp her hand around his. She has to let him set the pace.

She is disappointed when the informant finally arrives, and she can see from his not-so-genuine smile that Remus is disappointed as well. The exchange of information goes like clockwork, and soon they are once again left alone.

In spite of the wonderful afternoon that they have spent together, she feels the tension between them beginning to return. She asks him for one last stroll along the river, and he agrees.

"Have you been to see your mother yet?" she asks him.

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Why?"

He takes a deep breath, and stares intently at the swiftly flowing water beside them. "Because…I don't know how to tell her about what I've done. I don't know how to face her again with this weight on my conscience."

She reaches up to place her hand lightly on his arm. "She won't care what you've done, Remus. She won't love you any less."

He pauses, and they stand still, staring at the river. He stretches his opposite arm to place his hand over hers. He looks down into her eyes, and her breath speeds as he leans his face ever closer to hers.

Suddenly, a bird breaks the silence with a raucous caw.

Remus pulls back from her, and looks away. "I should be getting back to the Burrow now. I'll just Apparate there directly, if you don't mind?"

She wants to stamp her feet in frustration. She has to take a deep breath, and remind herself once again that she has to go at his pace. She has to wait until he is ready.

She nods. "That's fine. I'll just head back to Hogsmeade, then."

Their farewells are brief, and before she knows it, she is back in drab, lonely Hogsmeade, with nothing to look forward to but a stack of letters to screen.

* * *

_June_

Remus is avoiding her. Every time she has stopped by the Burrow in the past few weeks, he comes up with some excuse to leave—an errand, or a visit to make, or a duty for the Order.

After their afternoon along the river, she was so sure that they were making forward progress. What happened? Why won't he talk to her?

Finally, she manages to catch him alone in the kitchen. He stands to excuse himself for a trivial errand, but she will have none of it.

"You're not going anywhere, Remus Lupin. You will sit down, and talk to me. Right now!"

He coughs uncomfortably. "There's no arguing with that, I suppose." He slides back into his seat.

Now that she has his attention, nervousness surges through her, and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth. Is she doing the right thing? Shouldn't she just wait until he's ready to talk to her on his own? But it's too late to turn back now. She's committed herself to action.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," he protests weakly.

"Yes. You are. I thought we were starting to have fun together again. I thought we were friends. What happened?" She bites her bottom lip, waiting anxiously for his reply.

He looks away from her. "I'm sorry, Tonks. I thought I could be your friend. But I was wrong. I tried, but I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry."

Tears are rising in her eyes, and she fights to hold them back. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "No. You did absolutely nothing wrong. The fault is all mine."

"Then what is it? Why can't we be friends?"

He looks straight at her, his eyes full of sorrow. "Because I'm still in love with you."

Her mouth hangs open, and her chest heaves with emotion. He still loves her. He still loves her!

But before she has a chance to respond, he is on his feet. "I have to leave. I'm sorry." And with a sudden sharp _crack_, he is gone.

She collapses into a chair, stunned and confused. If he still loves her as much as she loves him, then why does he keep running away? Nothing makes sense any more, and she has no idea what to do.

* * *

Two days pass before she manages to catch him again. She switches shifts with Savage to have the morning free, and in the mid-morning she Apparates to the Burrow.

She finds him sitting on a bench in the back garden, reading. When he sees her he smiles weakly, and sets down his book. He makes no attempt to leave—it seems that he is finally resigned to the fact that he can't escape this conversation.

She folds her arms across her chest as glares at him. "It was pretty shitty of you to throw that at me and then run away."

"I know. I don't know what came over me. I was behaving like a coward. I'm sorry."

She sighs, and sits down next to him. "I might be willing to forgive you, as long as you don't do it again."

He nods. "I think I can manage that."

"Good."

They are quiet for a moment, and she knows in her gut that she needs to make the next move.

"Did it ever occur to you," she says, "that I might still be in love with you, too?"

For an instant his eyes brighten with hope, but then he turns his face away from her. "You shouldn't be. I have nothing to offer you—no home, no job, no prospects for the future…"

"I don't care."

"And despite what you say, I really am too old for you. Time will wear me down far sooner than it would an ordinary man…"

"I don't care." She grits her teeth.

"And after what's happened—now that I've seen and felt what kind of violence I'm really capable of…"

"Remus! For the last time—I don't bloody care!"

"What about Severus?"

She sits up straight her brow furrowed. "What?"

He shakes his head. "I tried not to be upset that you'd moved on. After all I've put you through; I can't fault you for giving up. I want you to find happiness. I tried to tell myself that it was all for the best. But I can't. Not with _him_, Tonks. He can't possibly be treating you the way you deserve to be treated."

She can't believe what she's hearing. "You think that Severus and I are…involved?"

He gives her a sheepish look. "Back in April when I went to check on how Jill and Mandy were doing, Jill told me that he comes to visit you in your rooms a few times a week. I just assumed…"

"You assumed that I was sleeping with him."

He nods, now looking thoroughly embarrassed. Her head is spinning as so many things click into place—this is why he gave her the speech about wanting to be friends. This is why he suggested she go out with men her own age. This is why he has been so uncomfortable every time they start to get close. This whole time he thought she was having an affair with Severus!

"Oh my God," she says, putting a hand on her forehead. "Oh my God! I can't believe…all this time."

"Tonks?"

She has to set things straight. "I am not sleeping with Severus! I have never slept with Severus, and I never will! I can't believe you've been thinking that this whole bloody time!"

"You're not involved with him at all?"

"No! I'm not! We're just friends who like to relax over a few pints in a quiet room once in a while. That's all."

He looks utterly flabbergasted. "Well," he says. "I feel like a rather enormous prat right now."

"Good. You ought to." She shakes her head. "You could have just _asked_ me, you know—instead of relying on Jill's impeccable judgment."

He smiles, and chuckles. He's beginning to blush. "I think I've learned my lesson."

"I hope so."

They sit in silence for a few moments, smiling. Tonks can hardly believe that this ridiculous misunderstanding is what has been holding them back this whole time. Why can't they ever seem to understand each other?

She can't help herself—she starts to laugh. "This whole time—" she laughs louder, "I was trying to get closer to you, and you thought I was sleeping with another man!" Tears are leaking out of her eyes. "You must have been so bloody confused!"

Remus is laughing along with her, his smile broad and bright. "I did have some moments of rather extreme confusion, yes."

They continue laughing, and Remus reaches forward to grab her hands in his. It feels so natural—so right—to be sitting there with him, laughing, his thumbs gently stroking the backs of her hands.

Gradually, their laughter comes to an end. She takes a deep breath. "So where does this leave us now?"

He echoes her deep breath with one of his own. "Now…we may have sorted out that one problem. But it doesn't change the other issues that stand between us." Despite his reluctant words, he makes no move to relinquish his grip on her hands.

"It also doesn't change the fact that I don't care one whit about any of them. And it doesn't change the fact that I am still utterly and completely in love with you—and I always will be."

A smile still sits on his face, but as his eyes flit across her face she can see the mingled hope and anxiety. "I don't want to hurt you again," he says, barely above a whisper.

"Get over it, love. I'm sure you'll hurt me plenty of more times—and I'll hurt you right back. It comes part and parcel with being in a relationship. If it makes you feel any better, I've no doubt in my mind that the times when we make each other deliriously happy will far outweigh the times when we cause each other pain. In my mind, at least, that will make every moment of pain worth it."

He squeezes her hands even tighter, looking down at them. He hesitates before answering her, and she bites her lip in worry. He can't still be having second thoughts about this, can he?

"I've spent most of the last two months trying to convince myself that we were done, and that I had to get over you once and for all. Please don't get angry…but I think…I might need a few days to readjust my thinking. Is that all right?"

She squeezes his hands back. "Take all the time you need, Remus. I'm not going to rush you. Over the past year I've developed a great deal of patience."

"Thank you. Thank you."

She is very encouraged by the way he continues to cling to her hands, and leans his face close to hers.

She tells him that she had to agree to take Savage's evening shift for two days in a row, so they agree to meet the evening after that. She hopes that by then he'll be ready to take the step that she's been ready for since Christmas.

* * *

She is still in bed just after noon, recovering from her two late nights of work in a row, when she hears a loud knock on her door. She pulls on a dressing gown and runs her fingers through her hair on the way to answer it.

It is Severus. He looks upset and anxious.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Has something happened?"

"Not yet," he says. "But it will soon, if I can't do something about Draco. I was talking to him again this morning, and I'm making no progress whatsoever. Albus was convinced that I could dissuade Draco from his task, but I can't. I can't make him listen."

She is nervous. She has never heard Severus refer to Dumbledore by his first name before—he must be deeply agitated to let that slip. "What's going to happen? What is Draco going to do?"

He turns away from her, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you. Just know that he must be stopped, or there will be disastrous consequences."

"Do you need me to take him into custody?"

He shakes his head, turning back to face her. "No. Arrest is still not an option."

"Then what can we do?"

"I have given this a great deal of thought—and I see only one solution. I need to take Draco away from Hogwarts. I need to get him out of England completely. Albus and I have already established a safe-house overseas, prepared should the need arise to move innocent victims of this war to safety. I think that now is the appropriate time to make use of that house. But it has become clear to me that Draco will not be removed by persuasion. Our only choice is to remove him by force."

"You want to kidnap him?" She can hardly believe her ears. Are things really so desperate that the Order must resort to those sorts of unsavory tactics?

"If that's what it takes, yes! And I see no choice but to bring Narcissa along as well. Draco will never renounce the Dark Lord if his mother is still in danger. Damn her! Without her interference I never would have been in this position in the first place, and now I'm stuck having to worry about _her_ safety as well as Draco's. Damn her!"

Tonks is irritated and confused by Severus's stubborn secrecy, but if he is willing to risk his reputation and even his life to whisk Draco and Narcissa away, than things must be very dire indeed.

"You're absolutely certain that force is required?" She doesn't like the idea--but anything that Severus would call "disastrous" has to be very bad indeed, and if she can help stop it, she will.

"It is the only way," he says.

She nods. "Okay. If you really believe that this is the only way, then I'll support your decision. How can I help?"

As he stares at her the intensity of his gaze softens, and he speaks in an almost pleading tone. "You could come with me."

Her eyes narrow. What exactly is he asking her? "You mean, come with you to get Draco and Narcissa?"

He takes a step closer. "Not just to get them. You could come with me the whole way—out of England to the safe-house. And once Draco and Narcissa are installed there—once they are safe and secure and have renounced the Dark Lord completely…then, we'll be free."

"What do you mean by free?"

He takes another step closer. "Free of the Dark Lord—free of the Order—free of this school—free of the Ministry—free of Potter—" he pauses, almost choking on his words, "—free of this whole God-forsaken country. We could go anywhere—do anything. We could go to China, or India, or Peru…" His eyes are blazing with some powerful, unfamiliar emotion.

This is insane. She's never seen Severus act so completely unhinged before. Is he honestly asking her to abandon the war and run away with him? Does he really think that she'll throw away her whole life for him on a whim? To think that only three days ago she was insisting to Remus that they were nothing more than friends. Apparently, Severus wouldn't agree.

"I can't. I can't come with you, Severus. Don't you see how crazy that is?" She can see the pain flicker across his face as she speaks, so she tries to soften the blow with some logic. "You still bear the Dark Mark—if you abandon him now, Voldemort will find a way to track you down and kill you."

"Don't say his name!"

"See! You're afraid to even hear his name—yet you're ready to risk gallivanting all over the world after abandoning him?"

He closes his eyes again, and takes a few deep steady breathes, just as she does when she is beginning her meditation.

When he opens his eyes again, his face is wiped of all emotion, and his voice is tightly controlled. "I apologize. I was behaving most irrationally. I don't know what came over me."

She's hurt him. She knows she has, but there was no choice—not now that Remus is back in her life. But would there have been a choice if Remus had never come back? Would she have even considered his offer of escape? That's not something she can let herself think about. She's committed herself to Remus—there's no point in wondering about anything else.

"You're afraid," she says. "Draco is about to do something awful, and you feel helpless to stop him, and you're afraid. That's enough to make anyone act a little crazy."

He nods, but says nothing.

"We still have to solve the Draco problem," she says. "Have you told the Headmaster that you think removing him by force is the only way?"

"Yes. But he continues to disagree with me."

She takes another deep breath, hardly believing what she is saying even as it comes out of her mouth. "If this is really then only way, then we don't need his consent."

"No, we do not."

She nods. "Have you worked out a plan?"

"Not yet. Even this morning I held out hope for some other solution, but my latest conversation with Draco has dashed that hope. I haven't had time to formulate an exact plan yet. I came here before I had a chance to think things through."

"Okay," she pauses. "I'll do some asking around the Auror department. I know they've had Malfoy Manor under surveillance all year. I might be able to pry information on Narcissa's regular schedule out of someone. You'll have to come up with a potion we can use to subdue them. What about transportation? An International Portkey, or Apparition?"

"I think Apparition would be the safest course."

"Can you handle taking both of them side-along?"

He looks down at the ground in front of her feet. "I'll be making this trip alone, won't I?"

She sighs. "I can't do this with you. I'm sorry. Once you're at the safe-house, you'll have to stay there along with them. You know that as well as I do. It's the only way to insure your safety. But I have to stay here. I can't desert my post."

"It's _him_ you can't desert," he snarls. "Your post has nothing to do with it."

The pain in his voice is palpable. How could she have been so naïve for so long, to fool herself into thinking he didn't have serious feelings for her? But it's too late to change things now.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He studies her face quietly for a moment, and then nods. "So am I." He pauses. "He'll never deserve you."

She sighs. "I'm afraid we'll have to agree to disagree on that point."

"Indeed, we will." He looks away from her.

It suddenly hits her that once he is gone, she will actually miss him. She may never feel for him what he clearly feels for her, but he's been an important part of her life for more than a year. She only hopes he'll find some sort of peace in his new life. He's earned it. She smiles lightly. "I reckon the position of Defense teacher really is jinxed, isn't it?"

"It would seem so." He still does not smile, but his frown is not so deep as before.

"When do you think you can have your end of the plan ready?"

"Two, maybe three days."

"Then I'll do the same. We can meet again tomorrow to work out more of the details.

They quietly bid each other farewell, and as she watches him leave, she wonders just what she's gotten herself into.

* * *

Two hours later she receives a letter from Dumbledore requesting her presence to stand guard-duty in the castle that night while he is away on business.

So much for her quiet reunion with Remus.

She and Remus are only able to exchange a short greeting when they arrive at the castle for their duty. He seems guarded, and hesitant. But he never was very comfortable with public displays of emotion.

"Since we couldn't get together tonight," she says, "maybe we could go to breakfast together tomorrow, and have our talk then."

He nods. "I would like that."

Patrolling the empty corridors of Hogwarts is hardly the most exciting of duties, but at least she has a morning with Remus to look forward to.

* * *

The past hour has been like a nightmare. Severus warned her that Draco was going to do something horrible, but she never imagined that he could have found a way to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

And now Severus, along with Draco, is gone. But his exodus came too late. The damage is already done. And she didn't even get to say goodbye.

They stand around the small bed in Hogwarts' hospital wing, watching as Madame Pomfrey tends Bill's mangled face. Every time she glances up at Remus, she sees the pain in his eyes—he blames himself.

Greyback went right for Remus, in an attempt to revenge himself on the man who ruined his chances at assembling a private army. Bill was only in the way.

With every reassurance Remus tries to offer—with every word of comfort that he speaks—she can hear his guilt. How will this new burden for his conscience change things for them? Will it make him reconsider going forward with their relationship?

She squeezes her eyes shut. She shouldn't be thinking such things at a time like this. Her friend is injured, and her security plans were hopelessly compromised—she should be thinking about _that_. Not about whether or not she'll get her boyfriend back.

Ginny and Harry appear at the doors. He looks pale, and weary, but at least he is safe. And his only concern is for Bill. Her heart goes out to him for his compassion.

Suddenly, the unimaginable slips from Ginny's lips: "Dumbledore's dead."

"No!" gasps Remus. He looks wildly from person to person, as if hoping one of them will tell him that it's not true. But no one does. He collapses into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. He looks almost as broken as he did the night he confessed to killing Ulric. With all the signs of good humor that he has been showing lately, she's almost forgotten just how fragile he still is.

"How did he die?" Tonks whispers, still staring at Remus. "How did it happen?"

"Snape killed him." Harry's words pierce her like a knife. She feels dizzy, and weak. She reaches out to steady herself on a nearby chair. Harry keeps talking, but his words barely penetrate the haze in her mind.

Severus would never kill Dumbledore! It can't be true! Harry must have seen it wrong. Severus would never betray them like that. She won't believe it.

He was her friend!

The room falls silent as hauntingly beautiful music suddenly fills the air. It is the grief-laden song of a phoenix. It is true. Dumbledore is gone.

Remus sits up straighter, and some of the grief on his face is now replaced by what she recognizes as hard anger.

Minerva joins them after a while, and when she is told about Severus's betrayal, her actions echo Remus's as she collapses into a chair, exclaiming her disbelief.

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," snarls Remus, looking Tonks directly in the eye. "We always knew that." His words sting her like an accusation. Does he blame her for not seeing through Severus's façade? Does he hold it against her?

"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" she whispers defensively. "I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't…." Her eyes remain locked with his, and she wills him to see her silent plea for forgiveness—she didn't know. How could she?

"He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape," says Minerva. "I mean…with Snape's history…of course people were bound to wonder…but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine….Wouldn't hear a word against him!"

Dumbledore had told her as much himself. Could he really have been so deeply deceived? There has to be more here than meets the eye. There simply _has_ to be.

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," says Tonks.

Harry's reply that Snape was sorry for causing his parents' deaths seems so implausible—so inadequate. No one else can believe it.

Tonks is certain that Dumbledore could not have told Harry the whole truth. Once again, the stubborn secrecy held between him and Severus is throwing everything into chaos. Will she ever know the truth?

Just this morning Severus came to her seeking escape—seeking a way out. Is this the disaster he wanted to prevent? And if so, why did he go through with it in the end? What could have happened since this morning to make him choose this awful course?

She replays the day's events in her mind again and again. Is there anything she could have said—anything she could have done—to stop Severus from making this choice?

The others are describing the evening's events to Harry, and she finds herself speaking up to tell him of the chaos of the battle, and how Severus had suddenly appeared. To think, her heart had leapt with hope when she saw him. If anyone could turn the tide of battle in their favor, it was Severus.

When he and Draco passed, she was certain that he was being chased—that he was making a final attempt for freedom and safety. And she had silently wished him well. Had he seen her along the way? Did he regret what he was leaving behind? "I thought I heard Snape shout something, but I don't know what—"

"He shouted, _It's over_," said Harry. "He'd done what he'd meant to do."

She feels numb and weary. Her heart refuses to believe that Severus really meant to kill Dumbledore, but her head tells her otherwise. How can she make sense of it?

And Remus keeps looking at her with accusation in his eyes. He's disappointed in her. He thinks she ought to have known. Something in the pit of her stomach lurches, and she knows without being told that she's lost him over this. It was too much, at too fragile a moment. She's lost him.

Her dark thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of Molly, Arthur, and Fleur. They all rush to Bill's bedside in a panic, and Remus's empty assurances begin all over again.

Tonks only half hears what they are saying. Right now, she doesn't care about Bill's face. Her whole world is falling to pieces all over again. She's lost them both—Severus and Remus—all in one night.

Fleur's shrill voice breaks through her reverie. "What do you mean 'e was _going_ to be married?"

Molly, flustered, has no words to defend herself against Fleur's passion for her fiancé.

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?" says Fleur imperiously. "What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!"

Fleur's bold words echo powerfully in Tonks's mind. Yes—Remus's scars, inside and out, do nothing but testify of his bravery.

As Molly and Fleur collapse into each other's arms, Tonks finds herself striding toward Remus. Her mouth opens as if under its own volition, and words come tumbling out. "You see! She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," says Remus stiffly. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely—"

She can feel herself losing control. This is too much, on top of everything else tonight, this is too much. "But I don't care either, I don't care!" she cries, seizing the front of his robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times…."

She fights to hold back a sob at the look of shame on his face. He's ashamed of her. If her trust of Severus hadn't really ended things, this out-of-control outburst surely has.

"And I've told _you_ a million times," he says, avoiding her eyes, "that I am too old for you, too poor…too dangerous…."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," says Molly.

Oh, no. Please. Please don't let them gang up on him at a time like this. She's already done enough damage on her own. Doing this to him in front of everyone he cares about might finish him—she can't believe she did this, now of all times.

"I am not being ridiculous," says Remus. "Tonks deserves someone young and whole."

"But she wants you," says Arthur with a small smile on his face. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so." He gestures down at Bill's prone figure.

His words of calm reason hover in the air for a moment, before Remus looks away. "This…is not the moment to discuss it. Dumbledore is dead…."

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world," says Minerva.

As Hagrid enters the room, most everyone's eyes turn to him. But Tonks looks only at Remus. He raises his eyes from the ground, and for a moment, they lock gazes. She can't read what he's thinking. Does he despise her for trusting the enemy, and for making a spectacle of both of them at a time like this? Or, somehow, is there still hope for them after all?

Soon, Minerva and Harry leave, and the whole room falls into a murmur of low, worried conversation. Tonks wanders away from the main group to take a seat by a window overlooking the grounds. She's in too much of a muddle to face them all right now—especially Remus.

Her mind keeps circling back and forth between two dark thoughts—that she's lost Remus, and that Severus has betrayed her.

As she looks out over the darkly shadowed grounds, she wonders where—among his millions of varied shades of grey—did Severus find his rationalization and justification for what he's done? There is no denying it now—he is a murderer. Regardless of what Severus might feel for her and regardless of what she feels for him, as an Auror it is her duty to help capture him. She only hopes that someday she has a chance to ask him: Why? Why did he betray them all?

Less then fifteen minutes later Ministry officials are swarming the school grounds, and she is called into action. As she leaves the hospital wing she casts one last look over her shoulder at Remus. Their eyes lock, and he smiles.

That one small smile fills her with hope, and it is that image that gives her the strength to get through the rest of the night.

* * *

The injured have been transported to St. Mungo's. The bodies of the fallen have been removed. Barriers have been erected inside the castle to keep students away from the damaged areas. The disabled Death Eaters have been arrested and removed to the Ministry holding cells. Magical Law Enforcement officers are now posted all around the grounds and even inside the castle. It is almost noon, and Tonks is exhausted.

She has finally been relieved, and is trudging back toward the Hog's Head with both her head and her feet aching after the past day's ordeal.

She doesn't want to think about Remus. And she definitely doesn't want to think about Severus. All she wants to do is empty her mind, and sleep for as long she can—it's the only way she'll be able to escape.

Jill is at the bar when she enters, and she asks after Aberforth. Jill shakes her head sadly. "He's not doing too well. He's just sitting out there in the barn, moping. Mandy is out there with him, trying to cheer him up."

Tonks nods, and sighs. "I'll try talking to him later. Right now I need to get cleaned up and sleep for a few hours."

"I'm not sure you'll be getting any sleep," says Jill, with a mysterious smile on her face.

"Why not?"

Jill leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, despite the emptiness of the pub. "You have a visitor."

Tonks's heart freezes. Severus? No—it couldn't be. He wouldn't dare show his face in Hogsmeade after what's happened. He's not sentimental enough to want to risk himself just to say goodbye. So there's only one person it could be—Remus.

Jill smile and winks at her, and Tonks tries to smile back, but her mouth feels dry and leaden.

She takes slow, deep breaths as she ascends the stairs. She can do this. She can do this.

She opens the door of her sitting room, and he is there on her sofa, reading the copy of _Pride and Prejudice _that she gave his as a gift ages ago.

He looks up, and says, "Hello."

"Wotcher, Remus."

"I thought I'd lost this."

"No. You left it in my flat. You were a right slob when you moved out."

"I was a little upset at the time. It hampered my natural tidiness." He is smiling.

She finally lets out the breath that she didn't know she was holding.

"Can't be perfect all the time, I suppose." She smiles back at him.

They are silent for a moment. Then, he rises to his feet.

"Tonks—there's something I need to say to you, and I really need you to let me get it all out, all at once. Okay?"

She bites her lip and nods. "Okay."

"There is no way that I can express to you how sorry I am for what I did to you last night." He pauses, his brow furrowed. "After you left—you were all I could think about. I was horrible…and insensitive…and I completely understand if you never want to be with me again after I treated you like that in front of everyone." He closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

He takes a deep breath. "I was in shock, and I couldn't think straight, and suddenly you were up in my face and I just…panicked. I had everything planned out—I knew exactly what I wanted to say to you—and in the midst of that chaos it all flew completely out the window." He pauses and rubs his face with his hands.

"My mind was in a haze. I was so angry… those words just tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I knew the instant I said them that I'd probably ruined things between us forever." He looks mournfully at the ground. "On top of it all, I'd hurt you when you were already in pain from being betrayed by a friend. I know how much that hurts, and I should have been there for you. But I wasn't. Instead I was buggering things up like always."

He is avoiding her eyes as he speaks, and he doesn't seem to see that her smile grows wider and wider the longer he talks. "I just want you to know," he says, "that I am sorry beyond words; and if you can possibly find it in your heart to give me yet another chance…"

She starts to laugh—a small uncontrollable giggle brought on by frayed nerves and exhaustion that bursts out of her throat before she can stop it. He finally meets her eyes, and a curious smile forms on his face.

She shakes her head. "Great Merlin, Remus! All night I was sure I'd driven you away forever for behaving like such a pushy ninny! And I thought you must be holding it against me for not seeing the truth about Severus earlier. _I _though that _I _was the one who needed to beg for another chance."

His eyes are twinkling, and his smile is broad. Without another word he crosses the room and sweeps her into his arms, kissing her fervently on the lips. She runs her fingers through his hair, and surrenders herself completely to his embrace. This is where she belongs.

Just she slides her hand up him jumper, he breaks the kiss. "Wait. There's one more thing…one _very important _thing that I've been thinking about since last night. I have to say it now, before this goes any further, because I think it's crucial to making this relationship work."

She catches her breath, and nods—he wants her. That's all that matters. Nothing else he has to say will ruin that now. "What is it?"

He loosens his arms from around her, and takes her hands in his. "Tonks—every time we talk about some of the difficulties that we will have to deal with, you tell me you don't care. And that scares the hell out of me. I feel like you think you can just ignore those issues and they'll somehow go away on their own. But that's just not going to happen."

Tonks sighs. "Oh, Remus, love. That's never what I meant when I said I don't care. I _do _care about those issues and what they'll mean to us. I care very much. I only meant that those were issues that didn't have to keep us apart. They're problems that we can work through together—as partners. That's what I meant."

He takes a deep breath and grins. "You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you say that."

"Good." She pauses. "But I think, before we start tackling the problems we've already talked about, there's one more problem that should take priority."

"What is it?"

"We really need to learn to communicate better."

He laughs. "Truer words were never spoken."

She laughs, too, and shakes her head. "I love you, Remus Lupin."

He wraps his arms around her and draws her close. "And I love you, Nymphadora Tonks."

For the rest of the day all of their pain, their exhaustion, their fear, and their worry melts away in the comfort of one another's arms, where neither of them needs words to communicate exactly how they feel.

* * *

Tonks manages to get off of work the day before the funeral. When they wake up in the morning, Remus pushes her hair out of her face, and asks her what she would like to do with her day off.

She grins at him. "I want to visit your mother."

He laughs. "I should have seen that coming."

"Yes, you should have."

A few hours later when Cleo opens her door to find them standing there hand in hand, the look of joy and love on her face is enough to bring them all to tears.

After a lengthy conversation inside the cottage, they make their way to the back garden.

Tonks sits by herself on a bench near the back door, sipping her lemonade. The flowers are in full bloom, the sun is bright, the sky is clear, and a cool breeze tickles her skin.

The outside world may still be in chaos, but at this moment, watching Remus and his mother strolling hand and hand through the idyllic garden, Tonks is at peace.

For the first time, Tonks knows that she and Remus have seen the worst and survived it intact. Whatever else might come, they can face it, and they can win—together.

She's through with forcing herself into the drab brown world that Severus left her in. She's not afraid anymore.

With a deep breath and a smile, her brown hair blossoms into the vividest pink.

The End

_Author's Notes: _Thanks for reading! I've had tons of fun sharing this fic-universe with you. I am planning further installments in this fic-verse set during DH, and an alternate pov retelling from Snape's pov. Keep watching for them. If you leave a review, perhaps Remus will treat you to a romantic walk along a river. Or, if you prefer it, Snape might ask you to run away with him. ;-)


End file.
